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L.   E.    STEELE,    M.A. 




All  rig/ifx  >VAV; TVV/ 







I.    MR.    BlCKERSTAFF   ON    HlMSELF,         -  1 

''  II.  MEMORIES  OF  HIS  CHILDHOOD,        ....  4 

III.  A  VISIT  TO  A  FRIEND,    -----  g 

IV.  A  VISIT  TO  DON  SALTERO'S,    -        -        -        -        -  13  *••""•• 
**  V.  FASHIONABLE  HOURS,       -                                         -  19 



VIII.  ON  LADIES'  DRESS,  -  .....  30 

IX.  THE  TRUMPET  CLUB  AND  ITS  MEMBERS,        -  33-*" — 

X.  ON  THE  LOTTERY,    -  37 

XI.  ON  DUELLING,  -        -  42 

XII.  ON  THE  ART  OF  GROWING  OLD,  -        -        -  45 



XV.  BETTERTON  THE  ACTOR,  -  -        -  56 

XVI.  DON  QUIXOTE  IN  THE  COFFEE-HOUSES,  -        -        -  60-** 

XVII.  ON  SATIRE,  -        .        -  64— • 

XVIII.  ON  NOBLE  INDEPENDENCE,      -  -        -  68 



NOTES,  ...  go 
INDEX  TO  NOTES,          ......'..  122 


IT  has  been  the  curious  fate  of  at  least  three  men,  whose 
greatness  is  associated  with  the  eighteenth  century,  to 
have  had  their  memories  undeservedly  injured  through 
the  hostility,  the  mistakes,  or  the  supercilious  regard 
of  a  succession  of  more  or  less  adverse  critics;  and  it 
has  been  the  good  fortune  of  some  writers  of  our  own 
day  to  be  in  a  position,  with  fuller  knowledge  te^faand, 
to  vindicate  their  characters,  or  greatly  to  modify  the 
harsh  opinions  we  had  been  led  to  form  of  them,  through 
the  carelessness,  or  something  worse,  of  previous  bio 
graphers.  Of  these  three,  Eichard  Steele  is  one ;  and 
as  to  the  two  others,  we  now  know  that  Eichard 
Brinsley  Sheridan  was  not  quite  so  contemptible  in 
life  and  end  as  we  had  thought,  and  that  the  moral 
obliquity  of  Warren  Hastings  existed  in  the  biased 
imagination  of  Lord  Macaulay. 

Strangely  enough  it  is  from  Lord  Macaulay's  mis 
chievous  picturesqueness  that  Steele  also  has  suffered ; 
but  not  perhaps  to  so  great  an  extent  from  this,  as 
from  the  pitying  affection  with  which  Thackeray  regards 
him.  We  have  only  to  read  the  Essay  on  Addison  of 

viii  THE  TATLER. 

the  one  and  Esmond  or  the  Lecture  on  Steele 1  of  the  other 
to  appreciate  how  far  the  popular  conception  of  Steele's 
character  is  due  to  these  two  writers.  But  "  the  whirli 
gig  of  time  brings  his  revenges,"  and  Steele  need  now 
no  longer  be  for  us  "the  rake"  of  Macaulay,  "whose 
life  was  spent  in  sinning  and  repenting,"  or  the  "Poor 
Dick  "  of  Thackeray,  but  a  man  of  high,  generous,  and 
chivalric  actions;  a  faithful  and  lovable  friend;  and, 
despite  the  faults  generally  associated  with  enthusiastic 
and  impulsive  natures,  an  honest  champion  of  what  was 
pure  and  good,  and  that  too  in  a  generation  which 
esteemed  but  lightly  those  things  which  are  of  good 

Although  Steele  speaks  of  himself  as  an  "English 
man,  born  in  Ireland,"  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
he  was  more  of  an  Irishman  than  this  statement  would 
seem  to  imply,  for  there  is  not  much  doubt  that  he 
was  connected  with  a  family  of  Steeles  of  Cheshire, 
which  had  settled  in  the  country  before  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  had  already  given  a  Lord 
Chancellor  to  the  High  Court  of  Justice  in  Ireland. 
In  the  year  1672,  on  the  12th  of  March,  when  London 
was  still  staggering  from  the  two  awful  blows  of  the 
Great  Plague  and  the  Great  Fire,  Kichard  Steele  was 
born  in  the  sister  capital  of  Dublin,  not  far  from  that 

1  See  English  Humourists  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. 

2  To  his  two  latest  biographers,  Mr.  Austin  Dobson  and  especi 
ally  Mr.  George  A.  Aitken,  we  are  indebted  for  this  better  and 
truer  view  of  Steele's  character.     The  present  editor  would  here 
acknowledge  his  indebtedness  to  the  former's  Richard  Steele  in 
the  "English  Worthies"  series  and  the  Selections  in  the  "Clar 
endon  Press"  volume,  and  to  the  latter's  admirable  Life  of  Steele, 
2  vols.,  1889. 


spot  where  Dean  Swift  had  been  born  five  years  pre 
viously  ;  and  the  record  of  his  baptism  may  still  be  read 
in  the  register  of  St.  Bride's  Parish.  But  with  this 
event  his  connection  with  Ireland  may  be  said  to  have 
begun  and  closed.  Steele's  father,  like  Swift's,  was  a 
Dublin  attorney ;  apparently  well-to-do,  for  he  possessed 
a  country  house  at  Monkstown  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Dublin,  and  at  one  time  held  the  office  of  sub-sheriff 
of  the  county  of  Tipperary.  He  died  when  his  son 
was  but  five  years  of  age,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  Richard's  mother,  whom  her  son  describes  as  "a 
very  beautiful  woman  of  a  noble  spirit,"  1  soon  followed 
her  husband  to  the  grave.  The  facts  that  survive  of 
Steele's  early  life  are  very  few,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  tell  of  him  until  he  entered  the  famous  Charterhouse 
School  in  1684.  It  was  here  that  the  most  memorable 
of  literary  friendships — an  almost  life-long  one — was 
formed,  when  Joseph  Addison  joined  the  school  nearly 
two  years  after;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  imagine  Steele, 
with  his  experience  of  school  life  and  his  kindly  heart, 
helping  to  make  the  first  few  trying  weeks  of  a  "  new 
boy's"  existence  tolerable  to  the  shy  and  somewhat 
sedate  son  of  Lancelot  Addison,  the  Dean  of  Lichfield. 

It  is  easy  to  perceive  from  Steele's  writings  that  he 
took  advantage  of  the  excellent  classical  training  which 
the  Charterhouse  offered,  and  although  not  the  scholar 
which  Addison  proved  to  be,  it  was  with  no  bad  result 
that  Dr.  Thomas  Walker,  the  headmaster,  administered 
those  floggings  of  which  Steele  frequently  speaks  in 
after  years. 

In  due  time  Steele  went  to  Christ  Church,  Oxford, 
iSee  Essay  IL,  p.  6,  1.  11. 


matriculating  with  an  exhibition,  in  1690,  and  then 
rejoined  his  friend,  who  had  already  preceded  him  by 
two  years,  at  the  University.  But  the  quiet  of  an 
Oxford  scholar's  life,  so  dear  to  Addison,  was  not  to 
Steele's  taste,  and  early  in  the  year  1694,  with  char 
acteristic  impulsiveness,  he  took  the  curious  step  of 
enlisting  in  a  regiment  of  Horse  Guards  then  under 
the  command  of  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  who,  through 
the  influence  of  Henry  Gascoigne,  Steele's  uncle  and 
the  Duke's  private  secretary,  had  frequently  befriended 
the  boy.  Now  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  act 
involved  any  social  hardships,  for  Ormond's  regiment 
consisted  chiefly  of  young  men  of  birth  and  station 
who  in  those  days  eagerly  sought  service  in  the  various 
regiments ;  and  so  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  that 
about  a  year  later  Steele  obtained  a  commission  in  Lord 
Cutts'  regiment  of  Coldstream  Guards,  and  some  time 
after  was  promoted  to  a  captaincy  in  Lord  Lucas's 

With  the  facts  of  Steele's  military  life,  which  lasted 
nearly  twenty  years,  we  need  not  trouble  ourselves, 
except  to  note  that  his  duties  as  a  soldier  did  not  pre 
vent  him  from  laying  the  foundation  of  that  fame,  as 
poet,  as  playwright,  and  above  all  as  essayist,  which 
we,  as  "heirs  of  all  the  ages,"  so  richly  enjoy.  Like 
Addison,  Steele  began  his  literary  career  with  a  poem. 
The  Procession,  written  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of 
Queen  Mary,  is  not  particularly  interesting,  and  his 
second  work,  a  prose  one,  seems  first  to  have  attracted 
public  attention.  That  work,  The  Christian  Hero,  pub 
lished  in  1701  and  dedicated  to  Lord  Cutts,  was  not 
originally  intended  for  publication,  but  was  written  in 


the  midst  of  the  temptations  of  his  soldier's  life  "to 
fix  upon  his  own  mind  a  strong  impression  of  virtue 
and  religion."  The  story  of  the  little  book  and  its 
fate  must  be  read  elsewhere;  it  is  here  sufficient  to 
remember  that  it  bears  the  stamp  of  sincerity  and 
goodness,  and  that  several  of  its  passages  and  senti 
ments  were  afterwards  embodied  in  the  Taller  and 
Spectator.  He  was  not,  however,  yet  to  develop  the 
gift  by  which  we  know  him  best,  and  as  if  to  try  his 
hand  at  all  forms  of  literature,  he  devoted  the  next 
four  years  to  the  production  of  three  comedies,  The 
Funeral,  The  Lying  Lovers,  and  The  Tender  Husband. 
Although  of  considerable  merit,  their  success  was  not 
great,  and  that  chiefly  for  a  reason  which  reflects  much 
credit  on  Steele;  they  were  too  moral.  A  generation 
which  enjoyed  the  evil  in  the  comedies  of  Congreve 
and  Farquhar  was  not  prepared  to  welcome  plays  which 
had  for  their  avowed  object  the  elevation  of  the  stage. 
Many  years  later  Steele  wrote  another  comedy,  The 
Conscious  Lovers,  in  which  he  returns  to  the  denunciation 
of  the  practice  of  duelling,  against  which  he  had,  in 
the  meantime,  spoken  so  bravely  in  the  Tatler.  1  In 
1707  he  obtained  the  post  of  editor  of  the  London 
Gazette,  a  Government  appointment,  which  gave  him 
access  to  political  news  of  much  use  in  his  work  as  a 

The  story  of  the  foundation  of  the  Tatler,  though 
familiar,  must  be  told  once  more.  It  was  a  new  de 
parture  in  periodical  literature ;  and  it  is  well  to 
remember  that  its  novelty  was  entirely  due  to  the 
energy  and  ingenuity  of  Steele.  With  one  exception, 
1  See  Essay  xi.  and  notes. 

xii  THE  TATLER. 

there  is  nothing  in  common  between  the  many  period 
icals  which  preceded  Steele's  venture  and  the  Taller. 
That  one  exception  is  Defoe's  Review,  a  journal  which 
was  published  in  1704,  and  outlived  both  the  Taller 
and  Guardian.  But  even  between  these  the  difference 
is  great.  Defoe's  journal  is  mainly  devoted  to  political 
news,  and  a  very  small  portion  of  the  paper  to  social 
questions.  The  exact  reverse  is  the  case  with  Steele's — 
here  the  element  of  news  ic  quite  secondary,  and  as  the 
work  progresses  it  soon  disappears,  while  the  social 
element  predominates  from  the  beginning.  Steele,  as 
the  publication  grows,  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  his  aims : 
"The  general  purpose  of  this  paper  is  to  expose  the 
false  arts  of  life,  to  pull  off  the  disguises  of  cunning, 
vanity,  and  affectation,  and  to  recommend  a  general 
simplicity  in  our  dress,  our  discourse,  our  behaviour," — 
an  intention  otherwise  expressed  in  the  familiar  words 
of  No.  89  of  the  Taller.1  With  such  serious  object  in 
view  he  needed,  at  first,  to  be  cautious  lest  his  readers 
should  suspect  him  of  posing  as  a  preacher  and  a 
moralist;  and  so  the  whole  framework  of  the  Taller 
is  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  delightful  and  attractive 
pleasantry.  The  title  is  chosen,  as  he  merrily  says,  "  in 
honour  of  the  fair  sex  "  ;  the  name  of  Isaac  Bickerstaff, 
under  which  he  writes,  is  borrowed  from  a  practical 
joke  which,  for  many  a  day,  entertained  the  country ; 
and  the  character  of  Isaac  is  drawn  as  that  of  a  kindly 
and  harmless  old  gentleman,  "now  past  his  grand 
climacteric,  being  sixty-four  years  of  age,"  "  a  philo 
sopher,  an  humourist,  an  astrologer,  and  a  censor." 
It  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  incident  which  gave 
JSee  Essay  i.,  p.  3,  11.  12-19. 


Steele  his  nom  de  guerre.  The  seventeenth  century  had 
seen  a  curious  revival  of  the  so-called  science  of  astrology, 
and  prominent  amongst  its  professors  was  a  quack  who 
called  himself  John  Partridge.  Originally  a  shoemaker, 
he  became  a  vendor  of  medicines,  then  an  astrologer, 
and  finally  a  compiler  of  prophetical  Almanacks.  His 
roguish  impostures  proved  most  profitable,  and  his 
success  speedily  induced  others  to  imitate  him,  until 
the  country  was  annually  flooded  with  these  ridiculous 
compilations.  Becoming  more  and  more  audacious, 
he  finally  foretold  the  deposition  and  death  of  the 
French  king.  It  was  an  opportunity  for  the  wits  not 
to  be  lost,  and  Swift  seized  it.  With  the  good  object 
of  stamping  out  this  folly  he  published  in  January, 
under  the  name  of  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  Esq.,  his  famous 
Predictions  for  the  year  1708,  in  which  he  solemnly  fore 
told  the  death  of  Partridge,  "  upon  the  29th  of  March 
next,  about  eleven  at  night,  of  a  raging  fever " ;  which 
was  followed  up  at  the  proper  time  by  a  circumstantial 
account  of  Partridge's  death.  It  was  useless  to  pro 
test  ;  there  were  too  many  friends  in  league  with  Swift 
bent  on  keeping  up  the  fun.  So  admirably  was  their 
gravity  maintained  that  their  victim's  actual  decease  was 
largely  credited,  and  the  result  was  the  cessation  of  the 
Almanacks.  The  name  of  Bickerstaff,  which  Swift  is  said 
to  have  taken  from  a  London  shopman,  thus  became 
known  throughout  England,  and  its  popularity  sug 
gested  its  appropriation  by  Steele. 

The  Taller  was  first  published  April  12th,  1709,  and 
its  numbers  continued  to  appear  on  every  Tuesday, 
Thursday,  and  Saturday,  until  January  2nd,  1711. 
From  our  standpoint,  accustomed  as  we  are  to  the  great 

xiv  THE  TATLER. 

journals  of  the  nineteenth  century,  it  was  an  insig 
nificant  production,  a  single  sheet,  and  the  charge  one 
penny.  It  ran  for  271  numbers,  and  of  these  Steele 
wrote  188,  Addison  42,  and  it  is  thought  that  3 6" may 
be  attributed  to  the  two  friends  jointly ;  other  writers 
contributed  the  balance,  Swift  amongst  the  number.1 
Once  Steele  had  started  in  this  path  his  energy  was 
immense.  Not  alone  do  we  owe  to  him  the  creation 
of  the  Taller,  Guardian,  and  Spectator,  but  seven  other 
journals  were  initiated  and  for  the  most  part  written 
by  him — the  Englishman,  Lover,  Reader,  Town  Talk, 
Tea-Table  Chit  Chat,  Plebeian,  and  Theatre.  But  his  fame 
was  established  by  the  Tatter,  and  in  that  work  we 
must  seek  for  him  at  his  best ;  just  as  we  find  Addison 
at  his  best  in  the  Spectator. ,  In  addition  to  his  literary 
labours,  he  took  upon  himself  the  burdens  of  theatrical 
management  and  of  politics.  He  sat  in  Parliament, 
first  for  Stockbridge,  then  for  Boroughbridge,  and  finally 
for  Wendover,  the  last  famous  as  the  first  seat  held  by 
Edmund  Burke.  In  1715  George  I.  honoured  him  with 
knighthood,  and  nine  years  later  he  retired  in  broken 
health,  after  a  life  full  of  excitement,  much  storm,  and 
hard  work,  to  Carmarthen,  where  he  died  from  paralysis 
on  September  1st,  1729,  in  his  fifty-eighth  year,  having 
"  retained  his  cheerful  sweetness  of  temper  to  the  last." 
Sir  Kichard  Steele  was  twice  married,  first  to  a  widow, 
Mrs.  Stretch,2  and  secondly  to  Mary  Scurlock.  If  we 

1  When  first  published  the  Latin  mottoes  only,  appeared  over 
the  Tatlers ;   the  English  mottoes  were  added  by  other  hands, 
and  are  not  to  be  relied  011  as  either  literal  or  even  correct  trans 
lations  in  all  cases. 

2  The  discovery  of  the  name  of  Steele's  first  wife  is  due  to 
Mr.  Aitken.     Her  maiden  name  was  Margaret  Ford. 


wish  to  know  how  courteous,  how  kindly,  how  loving 
a  man  Steele  was  we  cannot  do  better  than  read  those 
entertaining  letters  in  which  he  poured  forth  his  daily 
thoughts  to  his  second  wife. 

It  used  to  be  the  fashion,  when  comparing  Addison's 
position  as  a  writer  with  that  of  Steele,  to  place  the 
former  on  so  high  a  pinnacle,  that  the  originator  of 
the  form  of  literature  which  gave  Addison  his  oppor 
tunity,  suffered  undue  depreciation.  Addison  is  un 
questionably  the  greater  man  and  the  greater  writer; 
Steele  never  attains  to  the  polished  style  or  the  majestic 
rhetoric  of  Addison ;  he  is  at  times  careless  to  incorrect 
ness  ;  but  he  has,  what  we  miss  in  the  other,  a  spon 
taneity,  a  naturalness,  a  geniality,  which  constitute  the 
great  charm  of  his  writing.  He  is  not  a  whit  behind 
Addison  in  moral  tone  and  in  humour;  they  both 
raise  their  voices  with  equal  vigour  in  condemnation 
of  the  evils  of  their  day — the  gambling,  the  debauchery, 
the  duelling,  and  the  shams  of  fashionable  life;  their 
humour  is  equally  good  and  equally  characteristic. 

Let  us  see  how  competent  critics  judge  Steele. 
Here  is  what  Gay,  his  contemporary,  said  of  him : 
"His  writings  have  set  all  our  wits  and  men  of  letters 
upon  a  new  way  of  thinking,  of  which  they  had  little 
or  no  notion  before ;  and  though  we  cannot  say  that 
any  of  them  have  come  up  to  the  beauties  of  the 
original,  I  think  we  may  venture  to  affirm  that  every 
one  of  them  writes  and  thinks  much  more  justly  than 
they  did  some  time  since."  Again,  Leigh  Hunt  writes: 
"  I  prefer  open-hearted  Steele  with  all  his  faults,  to 
Addison  with  all  his  essays."  Mr.  Austin  Dobson 
sympathetically  says,  when  contrasting  Addison  and 

xvi  THE  TATLER. 

Steele:  "For  words  which  the  heart  finds  when  the 
head  is  seeking;  for  phrases  glowing  with  the  white 
heat  of  a  generous  emotion ;  for  sentences  which  throb 
and  tingle  with  manly  pity  or  courageous  indignation, 
we  must  go  to  the  essays  of  Steele."  And  finally,  Mr. 
Aitken,  Steele's  latest  and  best  biographer,  writes :  "  In 
his  ever  lovable  writings  he  always  kept  before  him 
the  highest  aims,  endeavouring,  in  whatever  shape 
he  might  adopt  for  the  expression  of  his  thoughts,  to 
reform  manners  and  help  in  raising  mankind  to  a  higher 

In  the  following  selections  chronological  order  of 
publication  is  not  followed.  The  first  two  Essays  are 
those  in  which  Steele,  under  the  thin  disguise  of  Isaac 
Bickerstaff,  tells  us  something  of  his  own  life ;  and  in 
Nos.  II.  and  in.  we  are  charmed  by  his  pathos.  Then 
follow  Essays  mostly  directed  against  the  follies  of  his 
time ;  Essays,  like  No.  vn.  and  No.  XL,  in  which 
his  common-sense  advice  is  given  or  his  honest  protest 
made ;  No.  IX.,  in  which  we  have  what  we  may  con 
sider  the  first  draft  of  the  famous  Spectator  Club,  and 
which,  along  with  Nos.  XII.  and  xiv.,  illustrates 
Steele's  humour;  and  finally  four  Essays,  Nos.  XVIL, 
xviii. ,  xix.,  and  xx.,  in  which  he  appears  in  his 
more  serious  and  philosophic  mood. 

As  we  read  these,  and  many  more  of  their  kind  in 
the  volumes  of  the  Tatler,  we  feel  that  of  "  the  trium 
virate  of  Addison,  Steele,  and  Swift,"  the  frankest,  the 
most  genial,  and  most  human,  is  he  that  created  the 
Tatler,  and  gave  to  the  world  the  first  sketch  of  the 
immortal  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley. 



No.  89.]  Thursday,  November  3,  1709. 

Rura  mihi  placeant,  riguique  in  vallibus  ainnes, 
Flumina  amem  sylvasque  inglorius — 

Virg.  Qeorg.  ii.  485. 

My  next  desire  is,  void  of  care  and  strife, 

To  lead  a  soft,  secure,  inglorious  life; 

A  country  cottage  near  a  crystal  flood, 

A  winding  valley,  and  a  lofty  wood. — DRYDE.V. 

Grecian  Coffee-house,  November  2. 
I  HAVE  received  this  short  epistle  from  an  unknown  hand. 


"  I  have  no  more  to  trouble  you  with  than  to  desire  10 
you  would  in  your  next  help  me  to  some  answer  to  the 
inclosed   concerning  yourself.      In   the   mean   time   I   con 
gratulate  you  upon  the  increase  of  your  fame,  which  you 
see  has  extended  itself  beyond  the  bills  of  mortality." 

"That  the  country  is  barren  of  news  l*as  been  the 
excuse,  time  out  of  mind,  for  dropping  a  correspondence 
with  our  friends  in  London  ;  as  if  it  were  impossible  out 
of  a  coffee-house  to  write  an  agreeable  letter.  I  am  too 
ingenuous  to  endeavour  at  the  covering  of  my  negligence  20 
with  so  common  an  excuse.  Doubtless,  amongst  friends, 
bred,  as  we  have  been,  to  the  better  knowledge  of  books 


as  well  as  men,  a  letter  dated  from  a  garden,  a  grotto,  a 
fountain,  a  wood,  a  meadow,  or  the  banks  of  a  river,  may 
be  more  entertaining  than  one  from  Tom's,  Will's,  White's, 
or  St.  James's.  I  promise,  therefore,  to  be  frequent  for 
the  future  in  my  rural  dates  to  you.  But  for  fear  you 
should,  from  what  I  have  said,  be  induced  to  believe  I 
shun  the  commerce  of  men,  I  must  inform  you,  that  there 
is  a  fresh  topic  of  discourse  lately  arisen  amongst  the 
ingenious  in  our  part  of  the  world,  and  is  become  the 

10  more  fashionable  for  the  ladies  giving  in  to  it.  This  we 
owe  to  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  who  is  very  much  censured  by 
some,  and  as  much  justified  by  others.  Some  criticise 
his  style,  his  humour,  and  his  matter  ;  others  admire  the 
whole  man.  Some  pretend,  from  the  informations  of  their 
friends  in  town,  to  decypher  the  author  ;  and  others  con 
fess  they  are  lost  in  their  guesses.  For  my  part,  I  must 
own  myself  a  professed  admirer  of  the  paper,  and  desire  you 
to  send  me  a  complete  set,  together  with  your  thoughts  of 
the  squire  and  his  lucubrations." 

20  There  is  no  pleasure  like  that  of  receiving  praise  from 
the  praiseworthy  ;  and  I  own  it  a  very  solid  happiness, 
that  these  my  lucubrations  are  approved  by  a  person  of 
so  fine  a  taste  as  the  author  of  this  letter,  who  is  capable 
of  enjoying  the  world  in  the  simplicity  of  its  natural 
beauties.  This  pastoral  letter,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  must 
be  written  by  a  man  who  carries  his  entertainment  wherever 
he  goes,  and  is  undoubtedly  one  of  those  happy  men  who 
appear  far  otherwise  to  the  vulgar.  I  dare  say,  he  is 
not  envied  by  the  vicious,  the  vain,  the  frolic,  and  the 

30  loud ;  but  is  continually  blessed  with  that  strong  and 
serious  delight,  which  flows  from  a  well-taught  and  liberal 
mind.  With  great  respect  to  country  sports,  I  may  say, 
this  gentleman  could  pass  his  time  agreeably,  if  there 
were  not  a  hare  or  a  fox  in  his  county.  That  calm  and 
elegant  satisfaction  which  the  vulgar  call  melancholy  is 
the  true  and  proper  delight  of  men  of  knowledge  and 


virtue.  What  we  take  for  diversion,  which  is  a  kind  of 
forgetting  ourselves,  is  but  a  mean  way  of  entertainment, 
in  comparison  of  that  which  is  considering,  knowing,  and 
enjoying  ourselves.  The  pleasures  of  ordinary  people  jire 
in  thefc  passions  ;  but  the  seat  of  this  delight  is  in  the 
reason  and  understanding.  Such  a  frame  of  mind  raises 
that  sweet  enthusiasm,  which  warms  the  imagination  at 
the  sight  of  every  work  of  nature,  and  turns  all  round 
you  into  a  picture  and  landscape.  I  shall  be  ever  proud  of 
advices  from  this  gentleman  ;  for  I  profess  writing  news  10 
from  the  learned,  as  well  as  the  busy  world. 

As  for  my  labours,  which  he  is  pleased  to  inquire  after,  j 
if  they  can  but  wear  one  impertinence  out  of  human  life, 
destroy  a  single  vice,  or  give  a  morning's  cheerfulness  to 
an  honest  mind  ;  in  short,  if  the  world  can  be  but  one 
virtue  the  better,  or  in  any  degree  less  vicious,  or  receive 
from  them  the  smallest  addition  to  their  innocent  diversions ; 
I  shall  not  think  my  pains,  or  indeed  my  life,  to  have  been 
spent  in  vain. 

Thus  far  as  to  my  studies.     It  will  be  expected  I  should  20 
in  the  next  place  give  some  account  of  my  life.      I  shall 
therefore,  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  present  age,  and  the 
benefit  of  posterity,  present  the  world  with  the  following 
abridgement  of  it. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  I  was  bred  by  hand,  and  ate 
nothing  but  milk  until  I  was  a  twelvemonth  old ;  from 
which  time,  to  the  eighth  year  of  my  age,  I  was  observed 
to  delight  in  pudding  and  potatoes  ;  and  indeed  I  retain 
a  benevolence  for  that  sort  of  food  to  this  day.  I  do  not 
remember  that  I  distinguished  myself  in  any  thing  at  30 
those  years,  but  by  my  great  skill  at  taw,  for  which  I 
was  so  barbarously  used,  that  it  has  ever  since  given  me 
an  aversion  to  gaming.  In  my  twelfth  year,  I  suffered 
very  much  for  two  or  three  false  concords.  At  fifteen  I 
was  sent  to  the  University,  and  staid  there  for  some  time ; 
but  a  drum  passing  by,  being  a  lover  of  music,  I  enlisted 


myself  for  a  soldier.  As  years  came  on,  I  began  to  examine 
things,  and  grew  discontented  at  the  times.  This  made 
me  quit  the  sword,  and  take  to  the  study  of  the  occult 
sciences,  in  which  I  was  so  wrapped  up,  that  Oliver 
Cromwell  had  been  buried,  and  taken  up  again,  five  years 
before  I  heard  he  was  dead.  This  gave  me  first  the 
reputation  of  a  conjurer,  which  has  been  of  great  disad 
vantage  to  me  ever  since,  and  kept  me  out  of  all  public 
employments.  The  greater  part  of  my  later  years  has  been 
10  divided  between  Dick's  coffee-house,  the  Trumpet  in  Sheer- 
lane,  and  my  own  lodgings. 


No.  181.]  June  6,  1710. 

Dies,  ni  fallor,  adest,  quern  semper  acerbum. 
Semper  honoratum,  sic  dii  voluistis,  habebo. 

Virg.  ^En.  v.  49. 

And  now  the  rising  day  renews  the  year, 
A  day  for  ever  sad,  for  ever  dear. — Dry  den. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  June  5. 

THERE  are  those  among  mankind,  who  can  enjoy  no  relish 
of  their  being,  except  the  world  is  made'  acquainted  with  all 
that  relates  to  them,  and  think  every  thing  lost  that  passes 
20  unobserved  ;  but  others  find  a  solid  delight  in  stealing  by 
the  crowd,  and  modelling  their  life  after  such  a  manner,  as 
is  as  much  above  the  approbation  as  the  practice  of  the 
vulgar.  Life  being  too  short  to  give  instances  great  enough 
of  true  friendship  or  good  will,  some  sages  have  thought  it 
pious  to  preserve  a  certain  reverence  for  the  manes  of  their 
deceased  friends  ;  and  have  withdrawn  themselves  from  the 
rest  of  the  world  at  certain  seasons,  to  commemorate  in  their 
own  thoughts  such  of  their  acquaintance  who  have  gone 
before  them  out  of  this  life.  And  indeed,  when  we  are 



advanced  in  years,  there  is  not  a  more  pleasing  entertain 
ment,  than  to  recollect  in  a  gloomy  moment  the  many  we 
have  parted  with,  that  have  been  dear  and  agreeable  to  us, 
and  to  cast  a  melancholy  thought  or  two  after  those,  with 
whom,  perhaps,  we  have  indulged  ourselves  in  whole  nights 
of  mirth  and  jollity.  With  such  inclinations  in  my  heart  I 
went  to  my  closet  yesterday  in  the  evening,  and  resolved  to 
be  sorrowful  ;  upon  which  occasion  I  could  not  but  look  with 
disdain  upon  myself,  that  though  all  the  reasons  which  I 
had  to  lament  the  loss  of  many  of  my  friends  are  now  as  10 
forcible  as  at  the  moment  of  their  departure,  yet  did  not  my 
heart  swell  with  the  same  sorrow  which  I  felt  at  the  time  ; 
but  I  could,  without  tears,  reflect  upon  many  pleasing 
adventures  1  have  had  with  some,  who  have  long  been 
blended  with  common  earth.  Though  it  is  by  the  benefit 
of  nature,  that  length  of  time  thus  blots  out  the  violence  of 
afflictions  ;  yet,  with  tempers  too  much  given  to  pleasure, 
it  is  almost  necessary  to  revive  the  old  places  of  grief  in  our 
memory  ;  and  ponder  step  by  step  on  past  life,  to  lead  the 
mind  into  that  sobriety  of  thought  which  poises  the  heart,  20 
and  makes  it  beat  with  due  time,  without  being  quickened 
with  desire,  or  retarded  with  despair,  from  its  proper  and 
equal  motion.  When  we  wind  up  a  clock  that  is  out  of  order, 
to  make  it  go  well  for  the  future,  we  do  not  immediately  set 
the  hand  to  the  present  instant,  but  we  make  it  strike  the 
round  of  all  its  hours,  before  it  can  recover  the  regularity  of 
its  time.  Such,  thought  I,  shall  be  my  method  this  evening  ; 
and  since  it  is  that  day  of  the  which  I  dedicate  to  the 
memory  of  such  in  another  life  as  I  much  delighted  in  when 
living,  an  hour  or  two  shall  be  sacred  to  sorrow  and  their  30 
memory,  while  I  run  over  all  the  melancholy  circumstances 
of  this  kind  which  have  occurred  to  me  in  my  whole  life. 

The  first  sense  of  sc-row  I  ever  knew  was  upon  the  death 
of  my  father,  at  which  time  I  was  not  quite  five  years  of 
age  ;  but  was  rather  amazed  at  what  all  the  house  meant, 
than  possessed  with  a  real  understanding  why  nobody  was 


willing  to  play  with  me.  I  remember  I  went  into  the  room 
where  his  body  lay,  and  my  mother  sat  weeping  alone  by  it. 
I  had  my  battledore  in  my  hand,  and  fell  a  beating  the 
coffin,  and  calling  Papa ;  for,  I  know  not  how,  I  had  some 
slight  idea  that  he  was  locked  up  there.  My  mother  catched] 
me  in  her  arms,  and,  transported  beyond  all  patience  of  the 
silent  grief  she  was  before  in,  she  almost  smothered  me  in 
her  embraces  ;  and  told  me  in  a  flood  of  tears,  "  Papa  could 
not  hear  me,  and  would  play  with  me  no  more,  for  they  were 

10  going  to  put  him  under  ground,  whence  he  could  never  come 
to  us  again."  She  was  a  very  beautiful  woman,  of  a  noble 
spirit,  and  there  was  a  dignity  in  her  grief  amidst 'all  the 
wildness  of  her  transport ;  which,  methought,  struck  me 
with  an  instinct  of  sorrow,  that,  before  I  was  sensible  of 
what  it  was  to  grieve,  seized  my  very  soul,  and  has  made 
pity  the  weakness  of  my  heart  ever  since.  The  mind  in 
infancy  is,  methiriks,  like  the  body  in  embryo  ;  and  receives 
impressions  so  forcible,  that  they  are  as  hard  to  be  removed 
by  reason,  as  any  mark  with  which  a  child  is  born  is  to  be 

20  taken  away  by  any  future  application.  Hence  it  is  that 
good-nature  in  me  is  no  merit  ;  but  having  been  so  fre 
quently  overwhelmed  with  her  tears  before  I  knew  the  cause 
of  any  affliction,  or  could  draw  defences  from  my  own 
judgment,  I  imbibed  commiseration,  remorse,  and  an  un 
manly  gentleness  of  mind,  which  has  since  insnared  me  into 
ten  thousand  calamities  ;  and  from  whence  I  can  reap  no 
advantage,  except  it  be,  that,  in  such  a  humour  as  I  am  now 
in,  I  can  the  better  indulge  myself  in  the  softness  of 
humanity,  and  enjoy  that  sweet  anxiety  which  arises  from 

30  the  memory  of  past  afflictions. 

We,  that  are  very  old,  are  better  able  to  remember  things 
which  befell  us  in  our  distant  youth,  than  the  passages  of 
later  days.  For  this  reason  it  is,  that  the  companions  of  my 
strong  and  vigorous  years  present  themselves  more  im 
mediately  to  me  in  this  office  of  sorrow.  Untimely  and 
unhappy  deaths  are  what  we  are  most  apt  to  lament  ;  so 


little  are  we  able  to  make  it  indifferent  when  a  thing 
happens,  though  we  know  it  must  happen.  Thus  we  groan 
under  life,  and  bewail  those  who  are  relieved v  from  it. 
Every  object  that  returns  to  our  imagination  raises  different 
passions,  according  to  the  circumstance  of  their  departure. 
Who  can  have  lived  in  an  army,  and  in  a  serious  hour  reflect 
upon  the  many  gay  and  agreeable  men  that  might  long  have 
flourished  in  the  arts  of  peace,  and  not  join  with  the 
imprecations  of  the  fatherless  and  widow  on  the  tyrant  to 
whose  ambition  they  fell  sacrifices  ?  But  gallant  men,  who  10 
are  cut  off  by  the  sword,  move  rather  our  veneration  than 
our  pity  ;  and  we  gather  relief  enough  from  their  own 
contempt  of  death,  to  make  that  no  evil,  which  was  ap 
proached  with  so  much  cheerfulness,  and  attended  with  so 
much  honour.  But  when  we  turn  our  thoughts  from  the 
great  parts  of  life  on  such  occasions,  and  instead  of  lamenting 
those  who  stood  ready  to  give  death  to  those  from  whom 
they  had  the  fortune  to  receive  it  ;  I  say,  when  we  let  our 
thoughts  wander  from  such  noble  objects,  and  consider  the 
havock  which  is  made  among  the  tender  and  the  innocent,  20 
pity  enters  with  an  unmixed  softness,  and  possesses  all  our 
souls  at  once. 

Here  (were  there  words  to  express  such  sentiments  with 
proper  tenderness)  I  should  record  the  beauty,  innocence, 
and  untimely  death,  of  the  first  object  my  eyes  ever  beheld 
with  love.  The  beauteous  virgin  !  how  ignorantly  did  she 
charrn,  how  carelessly  excel  1  Oh  death  !  thou  hast  right  to 
the  bold,  to  the  ambitious,  to  the  high,  and  to  the  haughty  ; 
but  why  this  cruelty  to  the  humble,  to  the  meek,  to  the 
undiscerning,  to  the  thoughtless  ?  Nor  age,  nor  business,  30 
nor  distress,  can  erase  the  dear  image  from  my  imagination. 
In  the  same  week,  I  saw  her  dressed  for  a  ball,  and  in  a 
shroud.  How  ill  did  the  habit  of  death  become  the  pretty 

tiifler  ?     I  still  behold  the  smiling  earth A  large  train  of 

disasters  were  coming  on  to  my  memory,  when  my  servant 
knocked  at  my  closet-door,  and  interrupted  me  with  a  letter, 


attended  with  a  hamper  of  wine,  of  the  same  sort  with  that 
which  is  to  be  put  to  sale  on  Thursday  next,  at  Garraway's 
coffee-house.  Upon  the  receipt  of  it,  I  sent  for  three  of  my 
friends.  We  are  so  intimate,  that  we  can  be  company  in 
whatever  state  of  mind  we  meet,  and  can  entertain  each 
other  without  expecting  always  to  rejoice.  The  wine  we 
found  to  be  generous  and  warming,  but  with  such  a  heat  as 
moved  us  rather  to  be  cheerful  than  frolicksome.  It 
revived  the  spirits,  without  firing  the  blood.  We  com- 
10  mended  it  until  two  of  the  clock  this  morning  ;  and  having 
to-day  met  a  little  before  dinner,  we  found,  that  though  we 
drank  two  bottles  a  man,  we  had  much  more  reason  to 
recollect  than  forget  what  had  passed  the  night  before. 


No.  95.]  November  17,  1709. 

Interea  dulces  pendent  circum  oscula  nati, 
Casta  pudicitiam  servat  domus. — 

Virg.  Georg.  ii.  523. 

His  cares  are  eas'd  with  intervals  of  bliss ; 
His  Httle  children,  climbing  for  a  kiss, 
Welcome  their  father's  late  return  at  night. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  November  1G. 

20  THERE  are  several  persons  who  have  many  pleasures  and  en 
tertainments  in  their  possession,  which  they  do  not  enjoy.  It 
is,  therefore,  a  kind  and  good  office  to  acquaint  them  with 
their  own  happiness,  and  turn  their  attention  to  such  instances 
of  their  good  fortune  as  they  are  apt  to  overlook.  Persons 
in  the  married  state  often  want  such  a  monitor ;  and  pine 
away  their  days,  by  looking  upon  the  same  condition  in 
anguish  and  murmur,  which  carries  with  it  in  the  opinion  of 
others  a  complication  of  all  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  a  retreat 
from  its  inquietudes. 

A  VISIT   TO   A   FRIEND.  9 

I  am  led  into  this  thought  by  a  visit  I  made  an  old  friend, 
who  was  formerly  my  school-fellow.  He  came  to  town  last 
week  with  his  family  for  the  winter,  and  yesterday  morning 
sent  me  word  his  wife  expected  me  to  dinner.  I  am,  as  it 
were,  at  home  at  that  house,  and  every  member  of  it  knows 
me  for  their  well-wisher.  I  cannot  indeed  express  the  pleas 
ure  it  is,  to  be  met  by  the  children  with  so  much  joy  as  I  am 
when  I  go  thither.  The  boys  and  girls  strive  who  shall  come 
first,  when  they  think  it  is  I  that  am  knocking  at  the  door  ; 
and  that  child  which  loses  the  race  to  me  runs  back  again  to  10 
tell  the  father  it  is  Mr.  Bickerstatf.  This  day  I  was  led  in 
by  a  pretty  girl,  that  we  all  thought  must  have  forgot  me  ; 
for  the  family  has  been  out  of  town  these  two  years.  Her 
knowing  me  again  was  a  mighty  subject  with  us,  and  took 
up  our  discourse  at  the  first  entrance.  After  which,  they 
began  to  rally  me  upon  a  thousand  little  stories  they  heard 
in  the  country,  about  my  marriage  to  one  of  my  neighbour's 
daughters.  Upon  which  the  gentleman,  my  friend,  said, 
"  Nay,  if  Mr.  Bickerstaff  marries  a  child  of  any  of  his  old 
companions,  I  hope  mine  shall  have  the  preference  ;  there  is  20 
Mrs.  Mary  is  now  sixteen  and  would  make  him  as  fine  a 
widow  as  the  best  01  ihern.  But  I  know  him  too  well  ;  he  is 
so  enamoured  with  the  very  memory  of  those  who  flourished 
in  our  youth,  that  he  will  not  so  much  as  look  upon  the 
modern  beauties.  I  remember,  old  gentleman,  how  often 
you  went  home  in  a  day  to  refresh  your  countenance  and 
dress  when  Teraminta  reigned  in  your  heart.  As  we  came 
up  in  the  coach,  I  repeated  to  niy  wife  some  of  your  verses 
on  her."  With  such  reflections  on  little  passages  which 
happened  long  ago,  we  passed  our  time,  during  a  cheerful  30 
and  elegant  meal.  After  dinner  his  lady  left  the  room,  as 
did  also  the  children.  As  soon  as  we  were  alone,  he  took  me 
by  the  hand  ;  "  Well,  my  good  friend,"  says  he,  "  I  am 
heartily  glad  to  see  thee  ;  I  was  afraid  you  would  never  have 
seen  all  the  company  that  dined  with  you  to-day  again.  Do 
not  you  think  the  good  woman  of  the  house  a  little  altered 


since  you  followed  her  from  the  play-house,  to  find  out  who 
she  was,  for  me  ? "  I  perceived  a  tear  fall  down  his  cheek  as 
he  spoke,  which  moved  me  not  a  little.  But,  to  turn  the 
discourse,  I  said,  "  She  is  not  indeed  quite  that  creature  she 
was,  when  she  returned  me  the  letter  I  carried  from  you  ; 
and  told  me,  '  she  hoped,  as  I  was  a  gentleman,  I  would  be 
employed  no  more  to  trouble  her,  who  had  never  offended  me; 
but  would  be  so  much  the  gentleman's  friend,  as  to  dissuade 
him  from  a  pursuit,  which  he  could  never  succeed  in.'  You 

10  may  remember,  I  thought  her  in  earnest ;  and  you  were  forced 
to  employ  your  cousin  Will,  who  made  his  sister  get  acquainted 
with  her,  for  you.  You  cannot  expect  her  to  be  for  ever 
fifteen."  "  Fifteen  !  "  replied  my  good  friend  :  "  Ah  !  you 
little  understand,  you  that  have  lived  a  bachelor,  how  great, 
how  exquisite  a  pleasure  there  is,  in  being  really  beloved  ! 
It  is  impossible,  that  the  most  beauteous  face  in  nature  should 
raise  in  me  such  pleasing  ideas,  as  when  I  look  upon  that 
excellent  woman.  That  fading  in  her  countenance  is  chiefly 
caused  by  her  watching  with  me,  in  my  fever.  This  was  fol- 

20  lowed  by  a  fit  of  sickness,  which  had  like  to  have  carried 
her  off  last  winter.  I  tell  you  sincerely,  I  have  so  many  ob 
ligations  to  her,  that  I  cannot,  with  any  sort  of  moderation, 
think  of  her  present  state  of  health.  But  as  to  what  you 
say  of  fifteen,  she  gives  me  every  day  pleasures  beyond  what 
I  ever  knew  in  the  possession  of  her  beauty,  when  I  was  in 
the  vigour  of  youth.  Every  moment  of  her  life  brings  me 
fresh  instances  of  her  complacency  to  my  inclinations,  and 
her  prudence  in  regard  to  my  fortune.  Her  face  is  to  me 
much  more  beautiful  than  when  I  first  saw  it ;  there  is  no 

30  decay  in  any  feature,  which  I  cannot  trace,  from  the  very 
instant  it  was  occasioned  by  some  anxious  concern  for  my 
welfare  and  interests.  Thus,  at  the  same  time,  methinks, 
the  love  I  conceived  towards  her  for  what  she  was,  is  height 
ened  by  my  gratitude  for  what  she  is.  The  love  of  a  wife  is 
as  much  above  the  idle  passion  commonly  called  by  that 
name,  as  the  loud  laughter  of  buffoons  is  inferior  to  the 


elegant  mirth  of  gentlemen.  Oh  I  she  is  an  inestimable 
jewel.  In  her  examination  of  her  household  affairs,  she 
shows  a  certain  fearfulness  to  find  a  fault,  which  makes  her 
servants  obey  her  like  children ;  and  the  meanest  we  have 
has  an  ingenuous  shame  for  an  offence,  not  always  to  be  seen 
in  children  in  other  families.  I  speak  freely  to  you,  my  old 
friend;  ever  since  her  sickness,  things  that  gave  me  the 
quickest  joy  before,  turn  now  to  a  certain  anxiety.  As  the 
children  play  in  the  next  room,  I  know  the  poor  things  by 
their  steps,  and  am  considering  what  they  must  do,  should  10 
they  lose  their  mother  in  their  tender  years.  The  pleasure  I 
used  to  take  in  telling  my  boy  stories  of  battles,  and  asking 
my  girl  questions  about  the  disposal  of  her  baby,  and  the 
gossiping  of  it,  is  turned  into  inward  reflection  and  melan 

He  would  have  gone  on  in  this  tender  way,  when  the  good 
lady  entered,  and  with  an  inexpressible  sweetness  in  her 
countenance  told  us,  "  she  had  been  searching  her  closet  for 
something  very  good,  to  treat  such  an  old  friend  as  I  was." 
Her  husband's  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure  at  the  cheerful-  20 
ness  of  her  countenance ;  and  I  saw  all  his  fears  vanish  in 
an  instant.  The  lady  observing  something  in  our  looks 
which  showed  we  had  been  more  serious  than  ordinary, 
and  seeing  her  husband  receive  her  with  great  concern  under 
a  forced  cheerfulness,  immediately  guessed  at  what  we  had 
been  talking  of  ;  and  applying  herself  to  me,  said,  with  a 
smile,  "  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  do  not  believe  a  word  of  what  he 
tells  you,  I  shall  still  live  to  have  you  for  my  second,  as 
I  have  often  promised  you,  unless  he  takes  more  care  of  him 
self  than  he  has  done  since  his  coming  to  town.  You  must  30 
know,  he  tells  me  that  he  finds  London  i"s  a  much  more 
healthy  place  than  the  country;  for  he  sees  several  of  his  old 
acquaintance  and  school-fellows  are  here  young  fellows  \\itli 
fair  full-bottomed  periwigs.  I  could  scarce  keep  him  in  this 
morning  from  going  out  open-breasted."  My  friend,  who  is 
uhvays  extremely  delighted  with  her  agreeable  humour, 


made  her  sit  down  with  us.  She  did  it  with  that  easiness 
which  is  peculiar  to  women  of  sense;  and  to  keep  up  the 
good  humour  she  had  brought  in  with  her,  turned  her  raillery 
upon  me.  "  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  you  remember  you  followed  me 
one  night  from  the  play-house  ;  suppose  you  should  carry  me 
thither  to-morrow  night,  and  lead  me  into  the  front  box/3 
This  put  us  into  a  long  field  of  discourse  about  the  beauties, 
who  were  mothers  to  the  present,  and  shined  in  the  boxes 
twenty  years  ago.  I  told  her,  "  I  was  glad  she  had  transferred 

10  so  many  of  her  charms,  and  I  did  not  question  but  her  eldest 
daughter  was  within  half-a-year  of  being  a  toast." 

We  were  pleasing  ourselves  with  this  fantastical  prefer 
ment  of  the  young  lady,  when  on  a  sudden  we  were  alarmed 
with  the  noise  of  a  drum,  and  immediately  entered  my  little 
godson  to  give  me  a  point  of  war.  His  mother,  between 
laughing  and  chiding,  would  have  put  him  out  of  the  room ; 
but  1  would  not  part  with  him  so.  I  found,  upon  conversa 
tion  with  him,  though  he  was  a  little  noisy  in  his  mirth, 
that  the  child  had  excellent  parts,  and  was  a  great  master  of 

20  all  the  learning  on  the  other  side  eight  years  old.  I  per 
ceived  him  a  very  great  historian  in  ^Esop's  Fables  :  but  he 
frankly  declared  to  me  his  mind,  "  that  he  did  not  delight  in 
that  learning,  because  he  did  not  believe  they  were  true" ;  for 
which  reason  I  found  he  had  very  much  turned  his  studies,  for 
about  a  twelvemonth  past,  into  the  lives  and  adventures  of 
Don  Belianis  of  Greece,  Guy  of  Warwick,  the  Seven  Champ 
ions,  and  other  historians  of  that  age.  I  could  not  but  observe 
the  satisfaction  the  father  took  in  the  forwardness  of  his  son  ; 
and  that  these  diversions  might  turn  to  some  profit,  I  found 

30  the  boy  had  made  remarks,  which  might  be  of  service  to  him 
during  the  course  of  his  whole  life.  He  would  tell  you  the 
mismanagements  of  John  Hickerthrift,  find  fault  with  the 
passionate  temper  in  Be  vis  of  Southampton,  and  loved  Saint 
George  for  being  the  champion  of  England  ;  and  by  this 
means  had  his  thoughts  insensibly  moulded  into  the  notions 
of  discretion,  virtue,  and  honour.  I  was  extolling  his  ac- 

A   VISIT  TO  A  FRIEND.  13 

complishments,  when  the  mother  told  me,  "that  the  little 
girl  who  led  me  in  this  morning  was  in  her  way  a  better 
scholar  than  he.  Betty/'  said  she,  "  deals  chiefly  in  fairies 
and  sprights;  and  sometimes  in  a  winter-night  will  terrify 
the  maids  with  her  accounts,  until  they  are  afraid  to  go  up 
to  bed." 

I  sat  with  them  until  it  was  very  late,  sometimes  in  merry, 
sometimes  in  serious  discourse,  with  this  particular  pleasure, 
which  gives  the  only  true  relish  to  all  conversation,  a  sense 
that  every  one  of  us  liked  each  other.  I  went  home,  con-  10 
sidering  the  different  conditions  of  a  married  life  and  that  of 
a  bachelor ;  and  I  must  confess  it  struck  me  with  a  secret  con 
cern,  to  reflect,  that  whenever  I  go  off  I  shall  leave  no  traces 
behind  me.  In  this  pensive  mood  I  returned  to  my  family  ; 
that  is  to  say,  to  my  maid,  my  dog,  and  my  cat,  who  only 
can  be  the  better  or  worse  for  what  happens  to  me. 


No.  34.]  June  28,  1709. 

Quicquid  agunt  homines  .... 

....  nostri  est  farrago  libelli.— Juv.  Sat.  i.  85,  86. 

Whate'er  men  do,  or  say,  or  think,  or  dream 

Our  motley  paper  seizes  for  its  theme.  20 

White's  Chocolate-house,  June  25. 

HAVING  taken  upon  me  to  cure  all  the  distempers  which 
proceed  from  affections  of  the  mind,  I  have  laboured,  since 
I  first  kept  this  public  stage,  to  do  all  the  good  I  could,  and 
have  perfected  many  cures  at  my  own  lodgings  ;  carefully 
avoiding  the  common  method  of  mountebanks,  to  do  their 
most  eminent  operations  in  the  sight  of  the  people  ;  but 
must  be  so  just  to  my  patients  as  to  declare,  they  have 
testified  under  their  hands,  their  sense  of  my  poor  abilities, 
and  the  good  I  have  done  them,  which  I  publish  for  the  30 


benefit  of  the  world,  and  not  out  of  any  thoughts  of  private 

I  have  cured  fine  Mrs.  Spy  of  a  great  imperfection  in  her 
eyes,  which  made  her  eternally  rolling  them  from  one 
coxcomb  to  another  in  public  places,  in  so  languishing  a 
manner,  that  it  at  once  lessened  her  own  power,  and  her 
beholders'  vanity.  Twenty  drops  of  my  ink,  placed  in 
certain  letters  on  which  she  attentively  looked  for  half  an 
hour,  have  restored  her  to  the  true  use  of  her  sight ;  which 

10  is,  to  guide  and  not  mislead  us.  Ever  since  she  took  the 
liquor,  which  I  call  "  BickerstafFs  circumspection-water," 
she  looks  right  forward,  and  can  bear  being  looked  at  for 
half  a  day  without  returning  one  glance.  This  water 
has  a  peculiar  virtue  in  it,  which  makes  it  the  only  true 
cosmetic  or  beauty-wash  in  the  world  :  the  nature  of  it  is 
such,  that  if  you  go  to  a  glass  with  a  design  to  admire  your 
face,  it  immediately  changes  it  into  downright  deformity. 
If  you  consult  it  only  to  look  with  a  better  countenance 
upon  your  friends,  it  immediately  gives  an  alacrity  to  the 

20  visage,  and  new  grace  to  the  whole  person.  There  is, 
indeed,  a  great  deal  owing  to  the  constitution  of  the  person 
to  whom  it  is  applied  :  it  is  in  vain  to  give  it  when  the 
patient  is  in  the  rage  of  the  distemper ;  a  bride  in  her  first 
month,  a  lady  soon  after  her  husband's  being  knighted,  or  any 
person  of  either  sex,  who  has  lately  obtained  any  new  good 
fortune  or  preferment,  must  be  prepared  some  time  before 
they  use  it.  It  has  an  effect  upon  others,  as  well  as  the 
patient,  when  it  is  taken  in  due  form.  Lady  Petulant  has 
by  the  use  of  it  cured  her  husband  of  jealousy,  and  Lady 

30  Gad  her  whole  neighbourhood  of  detraction. 

The  fame  of  these  things,  added  to  my  being  an  old  fellow, 
makes  me  extremely  acceptable  to  the  fair  sex.  You  would 
hardly  believe  me,  when  I  tell  you  there  is  not  a  man  in 
town  so  much  their  delight  as  myself.  They  make  no  more 
of  visiting  me,  than  going  to  madam  Depingle's  ;  there  were 
two  of  them,  namely,  Damia  and  Clidamira,  (I  assure  you 


women  of  distinction)  who  came  to  see  me  this  morning  in 
their  way  to  prayers  ;  and  being  in  a  very  diverting  humour 
(as  innocence  always  makes  people  cheerful,)  they  would 
needs  have  me,  according  to  the  distinction  of  Pretty  and 
Very  Pretty  Fellows,  inform  them  if  I  thought  either  of 
them  had  a  title  to  the  Very  Pretty  among  those  of  their 
own  sex  ;  and  if  I  did,  which  was  the  more  deserving  of 
the  two? 

To  put  them  to  the  trial,  "  Look  ye,"  said  I,  "  I  must  not 
rashly  give  my  judgment  in  matters  of  this  importance  ;  10 
pray  let  me  see  you  dance,  I  play  upon  the  kit."  They 
immediately  fell  back  to  the  lower  end  of  the  room  (you  may 
be  sure  they  curtsied  low  enough  to  me)  and  began.  Never, 
were  two  in  the  world  so  equally  matched,  and  both  scholars 
to  my  namesake  Isaac.  Never  was  man  in  so  dangerous  a 
condition  as  myself,  when  they  began  to  expand  their  charms. 
"Oh  !  ladies,  ladies,"  cried  I,  "not  half  that  air,  you  will  fire 
the  house."  Both  smiled  ;  for,  by  the  bye,  there  is  no  carry 
ing  a  metaphor  too  far,  when  a  lady's  charms  are  spoken 
of.  Somebody,  I  think,  has  called  a  fine  woman  dancing,  "  a  20 
brandished  torch  of  beauty."  These  rivals  moved  with  such 
an  agreeable  freedom,  that  you  would  believe  their  gesture 
was  the  necessary  effect  of  the  music,  and  not  the  product 
of  skill  and  practice.  Now  Clidamira  came  on  with  a  crowd 
of  graces,  and  demanded  my  judgment  with  so  sweet  an  air 
— and  she  had  no  sooner  carried  it,  but  Damia  made  her 
utterly  forgot,  by  a  gentle  sinking,  and  a  rigadoon  step. 
The  contest  held  a  full  half-hour  ;  and,  I  protest,  I  saw  no 
manner  of  difference  in  their  perfections,  until  they  came  up 
together,  and  expected  sentence.  "  Look  ye,  ladies,"  said  I,  30 
"  I  see  no  difference  in  the  least  in  your  performance  ;  but 
you,  Clidamira,  seem  to  be  so  well  satisfied  that  I  shall 
determine  for  you,  that  I  must  give  it  to  Damia,  who  stands 
with  so  much  diffidence  and  fear,  after  showing  an  equal 
merit  to  what  she  pretends  to.  Therefore,  Cliduinira,  you 
are  a  pretty  ;  but,  Damia,  you  are  a  very  pretty  lady  :  for  " 


said  I,  ';  beauty  loses  its  force,  if  not  accompanied  with 
modesty.  She  that  has  an  humble  opinion  of  herself,  will 
have  everybody's  applause,  because  she  does  not  expect  it  ; 
while  the  vain  creature  loses  approbation  through  too  great 
a  sense  of  deserving  it." 

Being  of  a  very  spare  and  hective  constitution,  I  am  forced 
to  make  frequent  journeys  of  a  mile  or  two  for  fresh  air ; 
and  indeed  by  this  last,  which  was  no  farther  than  the 
village  of  Chelsea,  I  am  farther  convinced  of  the  necessity  of 

10  travelling  to  know  the  world  ;  for,  as  it  is  usual  with  young 
voyagers,  as  soon  as  they  land  upon  a  shore,  to  begin  their 
accounts  of  the  nature  of  the  people,  their  soil,  their  govern 
ment,  their  inclinations,  and  their  passions  ;  so  really  I 
fancied  I  could  give  you  an  immediate  description  of  this 
village,  from  the  five  fields  where  the  robbers  lie  in  wait, 
to  the  coffee-house  where  the  Literati  sit  in  council.  A 
great  ancestor  of  ours  by  the  mother's  side,  Mr.  Justice 
Overdo  (whose  history  is  written  by  Ben  Jonson),  met  with 
more  enormities  by  walking  incognito  than  he  was  capable 

20  of  correcting  ;  and  found  great  mortifications  in  observing 
also  persons  of  eminence,  whom  he  before  knew  nothing  of. 
Thus  it  fared  with  me,  even  in  a  place  so  near  the  town  as 
this.  When  I  came  into  the  coffee-house,  I  had  not  time 
to  salute  the  company,  before  my  eye  was  diverted  by  ten 
thousand  gimcracks  round  the  room,  and  on  the  ceiling. 
When  my  first  astonishment  was  over,  comes  to  me  a  sage 
of  a  thin  and  meagre  countenance  ;  which  aspect  made  me 
doubt,  whether  reading  or  fretting  had  made  it  so  philo 
sophic  :  but  I  very  soon  perceived  him  to  be  of  that  sect 

30  which  the  ancients  call  Gingivistse  ;  in  our  language,  tooth- 
drawers.  I  immediately  had  a  respect  for  the  man  ;  for 
these  practical  philosophers  go  upon  a  rational  hypothesis, 
not  to  cure,  but  take  away  the  part  affected.  My  love  of 
mankind  made  me  very  benevolent  to  Mr.  Salter  ;  for  such 
is  the  name  of  this  eminent  barber  and  antiquary.  Men 
are  usually,  but  unjustly  distinguished  rather  by  their 


fortunes  than  their  talents,  otherwise  this  personage  would 
make  a  great  figure  in  that  class  of  men  which  I  distinguish 
under  the  title  of  Odd  Fellows.  But  it  is  the  misfortune  of 
persons  of  great  genius  to  have  their  faculties  dissipated 
by  attention  to  too  many  things  at  once.  Mr.  Salter  is  an 
instance  of  this  :  if  he  would  wholly  give  himself  up  to 
the  string,  instead  of  playing  twenty  beginnings  to  tunes,  he 
might,  before  he  dies,  play  Roger  de  Caubly  quite  out.  I 
heard  him  go  through  his  whole  round,  and  indeed  I  think 
he  does  play  the  merry  "  Christ  Church  Bells  "  pretty  justly  ;  10 
but  he  confessed  to  me,  he  did  that  rather  to  show  he  was 
orthodox,  than  that  he  valued  himself  upon  the  music  itself. 
Or,  if  he  did  proceed  in  his  anatomy,  why  might  he  not  hope 
in  time  to  cut  off  legs,  as  well  as  draw  teeth  ?  The  particu 
larity  of  this  man  put  me  into  a  deep  thought,  whence  it 
should  proceed,  that  of  all  the  lower  order,  barbers  should 
go  further  in  hitting  the  ridiculous  than  any  other  set  of 
men.  Watermen  brawl,  cobblers  sing  :  but  why  must  a 
barber  be  for  ever  a  politician,  a  musician,  an  anatomist,  a 
poet,  and  a  physician  ?  The  learned  Vossius  says  his  barber  20 
used  to  comb  his  head  in  Iambics.  And  indeed,  in  all 
ages,  one  of  this  useful  profession,  this  order  of  cosmetic 
philosophers,  has  been  celebrated  by  the  most  eminent  hands. 
You  see  the  barber  in  Don  Quixote  is  one  of  the  principal 
characters  in  the  history  ;  which  gave  me  satisfaction  in  the 
doubt,  why  Don  Saltero  writ  his  name  with  a  Spanish  ter 
mination  :  for  he  is  descended  in  a  right  line,  not  from  John 
Tradescant,  as  he  himself  asserts,  but  from  that  memorable 
companion  of  the  knight  of  Mancha.  And  I  hereby  certify 
all  the  worthy  citizens  who  travel  to  see  his  rarities,  that  30 
his  double-barrelled  pistols,  targets,  coats  of  mail,  his 
Sclopeta  and  sword  of  Toledo,  were  left  to  his  ancestor  by 
the  said  Don  Quixote,  and  by  the  said  ancestor  to  all  his 
progeny  down  to  Don  Saltero.  Though  I  go  thus  far  in 
favour  of  Don  Saltero's  great  merit,  I  cannot  allow  a  liberty 
he  takes  of  imposing  several  names  (without  my  licence)  on 


the  collections  he  has  made,  to  the  abuse  of  the  good  people 
of  England ;  one  of  which  is  particularly  calculated  to  deceive 
religious  persons,  to  the  great  scandal  of  the  well-disposed, 
and  may  introduce  heterodox  opinions.  He  shows  you  a 
straw-hat,  which  I  know  to  be  made  by  Madge  Peskad, 
within  three  miles  of  Bedford  ;  and  tells  you,  "  It  is  Pontius 
Pilate's  wife's  chambermaid's  sister's  hat."  To  my  knowledge 
of  this  very  hat  it  may  be  added,  that  the  covering  of  straw 
was  never  used  among  the  Jews,  since  it  was  demanded  of 

10  them  to  make  bricks  without  it.  Therefore  this  is  really 
nothing  but,  under  the  specious  pretence  of  learning  and 
antiquities,  to  impose  upon  the  world.  There  are  other 
things  which  I  cannot  tolerate  among  his  rarities :  as, 
the  china  figure  of  a  lady  in  the  glass-case  ;  the  Italian 
engine  for  the  imprisonment  of  those  who  go  abroad  with 
it :  both  which  I  hereby  order  to  be  taken  down,  or  else  he 
may  expect  to  have  his  letters  patent  for  making  punch 
superseded,  be  debarred  wearing  his  muff  next  winter,  or 
ever  coming  to  London  without  his  wife.  It  may  perhaps 

20  be  thought,  I  have  dwelt  too  long  upon  the  affairs  of  this 
operator  ;  but  I  desire  the  reader  to  remember,  that  it  is 
my  way  to  consider  men  as  they  stand  in  merit,  and  not 
according  to  their  fortune  or  figure  ;  and  if  he  is  in  a  coffee 
house  at  the  reading  hereof,  let  him  look  round,  and  he  will 
find,  there  may  be  more  characters  drawn  in  this  account 
than  that  of  Don  Saltero  ;  for  half  the  politicians  about  him, 
he  may  observe,  are  by  their  place  in  nature,  of  the  class  of 



No.  263.]  December  14,  1710. 

Minimi  contentos  nocte  Britannos. 

Juv.  Sat.  ii.  161. 

Britons  contented  with  the  shortest  night. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  December  13. 

AN  old  friend  of  mine  being  lately  come  to  town,  I  went 
to  see  him  on  Tuesday  last  about  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  with  a  design  to  sit  with  him  an  hour  or  two, 
and  talk  over  old  stories  ;  but,  upon  enquiry  after  him,  I 
found  he  was  gone  to  bed.  The  next  morning,  as  soon  as 
I  was  up  and  dressed,  and  had  despatched  a  little  busi 
ness,  I  came  again  to  my  friend's  house  about  eleven  10 
o'clock,  with  a  design  to  renew  my  visit ;  but,  upon  asking 
for  him,  his  servant  told  me  he  was  just  sat  down  to  dinner. 
In  short,  I  found  that  my  old-fashioned  friend  religiously 
adhered  to  the  example  of  his  forefathers,  and  observed 
the  same  hours  that  had  been  kept  in  the  family  ever  since 
the  Conquest. 

It  is  very  plain,  that  the  night  was  much  longer  for 
merly  in  this  island  than  it  is  at  present.  By  the  night, 
I  mean  that  portion  of  time  which  nature  has  thrown  into 
darkness,  and  which  the  wisdom  of  mankind  had  formerly  20 
dedicated  to  rest  and  silence.  This  used  to  begin  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  conclude  at  six  in  the  morning. 
The  curfew,  or  eight  o'clock  bell,  was  the  signal  through 
out  the  nation  for  putting  out  their  candles  and  going  to 

Our  grandmothers,  though  they  were  wont  to  sit  up  the 
last  in  the  family,  were  all  of  them  fast  asleep  at  the 
same  hours  that  their  daughters  are  busy  at  crimp  and 
basset.  Modern  statesmen  are  concerting  schemes,  and 
engaged  in  the  depth  of  politics,  at  the  time  when  their  30 


forefathers  were  laid  down  quietly  to  rest,  and  had  nothing 
in  their  heads  but  dreams.  As  we  have  thus  thrown 
business  and  pleasure  into  the  hours  of  rest,  and  by  that 
means  made  the  natural  night  but  half  as  long  as  .it  should 
be,  we  are  forced  to  piece  it  out  with  a  great  part  of  the 
morning  ;  so  that  near  two-thirds  of  the  nation  lie  fast 
asleep  for  several  hours  in  broad  day  light.  This  irregu 
larity  is  grown  so  very  fashionable  at  present,  that  there 
is  scarce  a  lady  of  quality  in  Great  Britain  that  ever  saw 

10  the  sun  rise.  And,  if  the  humour  increases  in  proportion 
to  what  it  has  done  of  late  years,  it  is  not  impossible  but 
our  children  may  hear  the  bellman  going  about  the  streets 
at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the  watch  making 
their  rounds  until  eleven.  This  unaccountable  disposition 
in  mankind  to  continue  awake  in  the  night,  and  sleep  in 
the  sunshine,  has  made  me  enquire,  whether  the  same 
change  of  inclination  has  happened  to  any  other  animals  ? 
For  this  reason,  I  desired  a  friend  of  mine  in  the  country 
to  let  me  know,  whether  the  lark  rises  as  early  as  he 

20  did  formerly ;  and  whether  the  cock  begins  to  crow  at 
his  usual  hour.  My  friend  answered  me,  "that  his  poultry 
are  as  regular  as  ever,  and  that  all  the  birds  and  beasts 
of  his  neighbourhood  keep  the  same  hours  that  they  have 
observed  in  the  memory  of  man  ;  and  the  same  which, 
in  all  probability,  they  have  kept  for  these  five  thousand 

If  you  would  see  the  innovations  that  have  been  made 
among  us  in  this  particular,  you  may  only  look  into  the 
hours  of  colleges,  where  they  still  dine  at  eleven,  and 

30  sup  at  six,  which  were  doubtless  the  hours  of  the  whole 
nation  at  the  time  when  those  places  were  founded.  But 
at  present,  the  courts  of  justice  are  scarce  opened  in 
Westminster-hall  at  the  time  when  William  Bufus  used 
to  go  to  dinner  in  it.  All  business  is  driven  forward. 
The  land-marks  of  our  fathers,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  are 
removed,  and  planted  further  up  into  the  day  ;  insomuch, 


that  I  am  afraid  our  clergy  will  be  obliged,  if  they  expect 
full  congregations,  not  to  look  any  more  upon  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning  as  a  canonical  hour.  In  my  own  memory,  the 
dinner  has  crept  by  degrees  from  twelve  o'clock  to  three, 
and  where  it  will  fix  nobody  knows. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  to  draw  up  a  memorial  in 
the  behalf  of  Supper  against  Dinner,  setting  forth,  that 
the  said  Dinner  has  made  several  encroachments  upon  the 
said  Supper,  and  entered  very  far  upon  his  frontiers ; 
that  he  has  banished  him  out  of  several  families,  and  in  10 
all  has  driven  him  from  his  headquarters,  and  forced  him 
to  make  his  retreat  into  the  hours  of  midnight ;  and,  in 
short,  that  he  is  now  in  danger  of  being  entirely  con 
founded  and  lost  in  a  breakfast.  Those  who  have  read 
Lucian,  and  seen  the  complaints  of  the  letter  T  against  S, 
upon  account  of  many  injuries  and  usurpations  of  the  same 
nature,  will  not,  I  believe,  think  such  a  memorial  forced 
and  unnatural.  If  dinner  has  been  thus  postponed,  or,  if 
you  please,  kept  back  from  time  to  time,  you  may  be 
sure  that  it  has  been  in  compliance  with  the  other  20 
business  of  the  day,  and  that  supper  has  still  observed  a 
proportionable  distance.  There  is  a  venerable  proverb, 
which  we  have  all  of  us  heard  in  our  infancy,  of  "  putting 
the  children  to  bed,  and  laying  the  goose  to  the  fire." 
This  was  one  of  the  jocular  sayings  of  our  forefathers, 
but  may  be  properly  used  in  the  literal  sense  at  present. 
Who  would  not  wonder  at  this  perverted  relish  of  those  who 
are  reckoned  the  most  polite  part  of  mankind,  that  prefer 
sea-coals  and  candles  to  the  sun,  and  exchange  so  many 
cheerful  morning  hours,  for  the  pleasures  of  midnight  30 
revels  and  debauches  1  If  a  man  was  only  to  consult  his 
health,  he  would  choose  to  live  his  whole  time,  if  possible, 
in  daylight ;  and  to  retire  out  of  the  world  into  silence 
and  sleep,  while  the  raw  damps  and  unwholesome  vapours 
fly  abroad,  without  a  sun  to  disperse,  moderate,  or  control 
them.  For  my  own  part,  I  value  an  hour  in  the  morning 


as  much  as  common  libertines  do  an  hour  at  midnight. 
When  I  find  myself  -awakened  into  being,  and  perceive 
my  life  renewed  within  me,  and  at  the  same  time  see  the 
whole  face  of  nature  recovered  out  of  the  dark,  uncomfort 
able  state  in  which  it  lay  for  several  hours,  my  heart 
overflows  with  such  secret  sentiments  of  joy  and  gratitude, 
as  are  a  kind  of  implicit  praise  to  the  great  Author  of 
Nature.  The  mind,  in  these  early  seasons  of  the  day,  is  so 
refreshed  in  all  its  faculties,  and  borne  up  with  such  new 

10  supplies  of  animal  spirits,  that  she  finds  herself  in  a  state  of 
youth,  especially  when  she  is  entertained  with  the  breath  of 
flowers,  the  melody  of  birds,  the  dews  that  hang  upon  the 
plants,  and  all  those  other  sweets  of  nature  that  are  peculiar 
to  the  morning. 

It  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  have  this  relish  of  being, 
this  exquisite  taste  of  life,  who  does  not  come  into  the  world 
before  it  is  in  all  its  noise  and  hurry  ;  who  loses  the  rising 
of  the  sun,  the  still  hours  of  the  day,  and,  immediately  upon 
his  first  getting  up,  plunges  himself  into  the  ordinary  cares 

20  or  follies  of  the  world. 


No.  77.]  October  5,  1709. 

Quicquid  agunt  homines— 

....  nostri  est  farrago  libelli.— Juv.  Sat.  I  85,  86. 

Whatever  good  is  done,  whatever  ill, — 

By  human  kind,  shall  this  collection  fill. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  October  5. 

As  bad  as  the  world  is,  I  find  by  very  strict  observation 
upon  virtue  and  vice,  that  if  men  appeared  no  worse  than 
they  really  are,  I  should  have  less  work  than  at  present  I 
am  obliged  to  undertake  for  their  reformation.  They  have 
30  generally  taken  up  a  kind  of  inverted  ambition,  and  affect 


even  faults  and  imperfections  of  which  they  are  innocent. 
The  other  day  in  a  coffee-house  I  stood  by  a  young  heir, 
with  a  fresh,  sanguine,  and  healthy  look,  who  entertained  us 
with  an  account  of  his  diet-drink  ;  though,  to  my  knowledge, 
he  is  as  sound  as  any  of  his  tenants. 

This  worthy  youth  put  me  into  reflections  upon  that 
subject ;  and  I  observed  the  fantastical  humour  to  be  so 
general,  that  there  is  hardly  a  man  who  is  not  more  or  less 
tainted  with  it.  The  first  of  this  order  of  men  are  the 
valetudinarians,  who  are  never  in  health  ;  but  complain  of  10 
want  of  stomach  or  rest  every  day  until  noon,  and  then 
devour  all  which  comes  before  them.  Lady  Dainty  is 
convinced,  that  it  is  necessary  for  a  gentlewoman  to  be  out  of 
order  ;  and,  to  preserve  that  character,  she  dines  every  day 
in  her  closet  at  twelve,  that  she  may  become  her  table  at 
two,  and  be  unable  to  eat  in  public.  About  five  years  ago, 
I  remember,  it  was  the  fashion  to  be  short-sighted.  A  man 
would  not  own  an  acquaintance  until  he  had  first  examined 
him  with  his  glass.  At  a  lady's  entrance  into  the  play 
house,  you  might  see  tubes  immediately  levelled  at  her  from  20 
every  quarter  of  the  pit  and  side-boxes.  However,  that  ] 
mode  of  infirmity  is  out,  and  the  age  has  recovered  its  sight:  j 
but  the  blind  seemed  to  be  succeeded  by  the  lame,  and  a 
jaunty  limp  is  the  present  beauty.  I  think  I  have  formerly 
observed,  a  cane  is  part  of  the  dress  of  a  prig,  and  always 
worn  upon  a  button,  for  fear  he  should  be  thought  to  have 
an  occasion  for  it,  or  be  esteemed  really,  and  not  genteely  a 
cripple.  I  have  considered,  but  could  never  find  out  the 
bottom  of  this  vanity.  I  indeed  have  heard  of  a  Gascon 
general,  who,  by  the  lucky  grazing  of  a  bullet  on  the  roll  of  30 
his  stocking,  took  occasion  to  halt  all  his  life  after.  But  as 
for  our  peaceable  cripples,  I  know  no  foundation  for  their 
behaviour,  without  it  may  be  supposed  that,  in  this  warlike 
age,  some  think  a  cane  the  next  honour  to  a  wooden  leg. 
This  sort  of  affectation  I  have  known  run  from  one  limb  or 
member  to  another.  Before  the  limpers  came  in,  I  remember 


a  race  of  lispers,  fine  persons,  who  took  an  aversion  to 
particular  letters  in  our  language.  Some  never  uttered  the 
letter  H ;  and  others  had  as  mortal  an  aversion  to  S. 
Others  have  had  their  fashionable  defect  in  their  ears,  and 
would  make  you  repeat  all  you  said  twice  over.  I  know  an 
ancient  friend  of  mine,  whose  table  is  every  day  surrounded 
with  flatterers,  that  makes  use  of  this,  sometimes  as  a  piece 
of  grandeur,  and  at  others  as  an  art,  to  make  them  repeat 
their  commendations.  Such  affectations  have  been  indeed  in 

10  the  world  in  ancient  times  ;  but  they  fell  into  them  out  of 
politic  ends.  Alexander  the  Great  had  a  wry  neck,  which 
made  it  the  fashion  in  his  court  to  carry  their  heads 
on  one  side  when  they  came  into  the  presence.  One  who 
thought  to  outshine  the  whole  court,  carried  his  head  so 
over  complaisantly,  that  this  martial  prince  gave  him  so 
great  a  box  on  the  ear,  as  set  all  the  heads  of  the  court 

This  humour  takes  place  in  our  minds  as  well  as  bodies. 
I  know  at  this  time  a  young  gentleman,  who  talks  atheisti- 

20  cally  all  day  in  coffee-houses,  and  in  his  degrees  of  under 
standing  sets  up  for  a  free-thinker  >  though  it  can  be  proved 
upon  him,  he  says  his  prayers  every  morning  and  evening. 
But  this  class  of  modern  wits  I  shall  reserve  for  a  chapter 
by  itself. 

Of  the  like  turn  are  all  your  marriage-haters,  who  rail  at 
the  noose,  at  the  words,  "  for  ever  and  aye,"  and  at  the  same 
time  are  secretly  pining  for  some  young  thing  or  other  that 
makes  their  hearts  ache  by  her  refusal.  The  next  to  these 
are  such  as  pretend  to  govern  their  wives,  and  boast  how  ill 

30  they  use  them,  when,  at  the  same  time,  go  to  their  houses 
and  you  shall  see  them  step  as  if  they  feared  making  a  noise, 
and  are  as  fond  as  an  alderman.  I  do  not  know  but  some 
times  these  pretences  may  arise  from  a  desire  to  conceal  a 
contrary  defect  than  that  they  set  up  for.  I  remember, 
when  I  was  a  young  fellow,  we  had  a  companion  of  a  very 
fearful  complexion,  who,  when  we  sat  in  to  drink,  would 


desire  us  to  take  his  sword  from  him  when  he  grew  fuddled, 
for  it  was  his  misfortune  to  be  quarrelsome. 

There  are  many,  many  of  these  evils,  which  demand  my 
observation  ;  but  because  I  have  of  late  been  thought  some 
what  too  satirical,  I  shall  give  them  warning,  and  declare  to 
the  whole  world,  that  they  are  not  true,  but  false  hypocrites  ; 
and  make  it  out  that  they  are  good  men  in  their  hearts.  The 
motive  of  this  monstrous  affectation,  in  the  above-mentioned 
and  the  like  particulars,  I  take  to  proceed  from  that  noble 
thirst  of  fame  and  reputation  which  is  planted  in  the  hearts  10 
of  all  men.  As  this  produces  elegant  writings  and  gallant 
actions  in  men  of  great  abilities,  it  also  brings  forth  spurious 
productions  in  men  who  are  not  capable  of  distinguishing 
themselves  by  things  which  are  really  praise-worthy.  As  the 
desire  of  fame  in  men  of  true  wit  and  gallantry  shows  itseli 
in  proper  instances,  the  same  desire  in  men  who  have  the 
ambition  without  proper  faculties,  runs  wild  and  discovers 
itself  in  a  thousand  extravagancies,  by  which  they  wouki 
signalize  themselves  from  others,  and  gain  a  set  of  admirers. 
When  I  was  a  middle-aged  man,  there  were  many  societies  20 
of  ambitious  young  men  in  England,  who,  in  their  pursuits 
after  fame,  were  every  night  employed  in  roasting  porters, 
smoking  cobblers,  knocking  down  watchmen,  overturning 
constables,  breaking  windows,  blackening  signposts,  and  the 
like  immortal  enterprises,  that  dispersed  their  reputation 
throughout  the  whole  kingdom.  One  could  hardly  find  a 
knocker  at  a  door  in  a  whole  street  after  a  midnight 
expedition  of  these  beaux  esprits.  I  was  lately  very  much 
surprised  by  an  account  of  my  maid,  who  entered  my 
bed-chamber  this  morning  in  a  very  great  fright,  and  told  30 
me,  she  was  afraid  my  parlour  was  haunted  ;  for  that  she 
had  found  several  panes  of  my  windows  broken,  and  the 
floor  strewed  with  half-pence.  I  have  not  yet  a  full  light 
into  this  new  way,  but  am  apt  to  think,  that  it  is  a  generous 
piece  of  wit  that  some  of  my  contemporaries  make  use  of,  to 
break  windows,  and  leave  money  to  pay  for  them. 



No.  248.]  November  9,  1710. 

Media  sese  tulit  obvia  silva 
Virginis  os  habitumque  gerens. 

Yirg.  JSn.  i  314. 

Lo  !   in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  wood, 
Before  my  eyes  a  beauteous  form  appears, 
A  virgin's  dress,  and  modest  looks  she  wears. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  November  8. 

IT  may  perhaps  appear  ridiculous,  but  I  must  confess, 
this  last  summer,  as  I  was  riding  in  Enfield-chase,  I  met 
a  young  lady  whom  I  could  hardly  get  out  of  my  head, 

10  and  for  ought  I  know,  my  heart,  ever  since.  She  was 
mounted  011  a  pad,  with  a  very  well-fancied  furniture. 
She  set  her  horse  with  a  very  graceful  air  ;  and,  when  I 
saluted  her  with  my  hat,  she  bowed  to  me  so  obligingly 
that  whether  it  was  her  civility  or  beauty  that  touched 
me  so  much,  I  know  not ;  but  I  am  sure  I  shall  never 
forget  her.  She  dwells  in  my  imagination  in  a  figure  so 
much  to  her  advantage,  that  if  I  were  to  draw  a  picture  of 
youth,  health,  beauty,  or  modesty,  I  should  represent  any 
or  all  of  them,  in  the  person  of  that  young  woman. 

20  I  do  not  find  that  there  are  any  descriptions  in  the 
ancient  poets  so  beautiful  as  those  they  draw  of  nymphs 
in  their  pastoral  dresses  and  exercises.  Virgil  gives  Venus 
the  habit  of  a  Spartan  huntress  when  she  is  to  put  ^Eneas 
in  his  way,  and  relieve  his  cares  with  the  most  agreeable 
object  imaginable.  Diana  and  her  train  are  always  de 
scribed  as  inhabitants  of  the  woods,  and  followers  of  the 
chase.  To  be  well  diverted,  is  the  safest  guard  to  inno 
cence  ;  and,  methinks,  it  should  be  one  of  the  first  things 
to  be  regarded  among  people  of  condition,  to  find  out 

30  proper  amusements  for  young  ladies.     I  cannot  but  think 


this  of  riding  might  easily  be  revived  among  them,  when 
they  consider  how  much  it  must  contribute  to  their 
beauty.  This  would  lay  up  the  best  portion  they  could 
bring  into  a  family,  a  good  stock  of  health,  to  transmit  to 
their  posterity.  Such  a  charming  bloom  as  this  gives  the 
countenance,  is  very  much  preferable  to  the  real  or  affected 
feebleness  or  softness,  which  appear  in  the  faces  of  our 
modern  beauties. 

The  comedy,  called,  The  Ladies'  Cure,  represents  the  \ 
affectation  of  wan  looks  and  languid  glances  to  a  very  JO 
entertaining  extravagance.  There  is,  as  the  lady  in  the 
play  complains,  something  so  robust  in  perfect  health, 
that  it  is  with  her  a  point  of  breeding  and  delicacy  to 
appear  in  public  with  a  sickly  air.  But  the  natural  gaiety 
and  spirit  which  shine  in  the  complexion  of  such  as  form 
to  themselves  a  sort  of  diverting  industry,  by  choosing 
recreations  that  are  exercises,  surpass  all  the  false  orna 
ments  and  graces  that  can  be  put  on  by  applying  the 
whole  dispensary  of  a  toilet.  A  healthy  body,  and  a 
cheerful  mind,  give  charms  as  irresistible  as  inimitable.  20 
The  beauteous  Dyctinna,  who  came  to  town  last  week,  has, 
from  the  constant  prospect  in  a  delicious  country,  and  the 
moderate  exercise  and  journeys  in  the  visits  she  made 
round  it,  contracted  a  certain  life  in  her  countenance,  which 
will  in  vain  employ  both  the  painters  and  the  poets  to 
represent.  The  becoming  negligence  in  her  dress,  the  severe 
sweetness  of  her  looks,  and  a  certain  innocent  boldness  in 
all  her  behaviour,  are  the  effect  of  the  active  recreations  I 
am  talking  of. 

But  instead  of  such,  or  any  other  as  innocent  and  30 
pleasing  method  of  passing  away  their  time  with  alacrity, 
we  have  many  in  town  who  spend  their  hours  in  an 
indolent  state  of  body  and  mind,  without  either  recreations 
or  reflections.  I  am  apt  to  believe  there  are  some  parents 
imagine  their  daughters  will  be  accomplished  enough,  if 
nothing  interrupts  their  growth,  or  their  shape.  According 


to  this  method  of  education,  I  could  name  you  twenty 
families,  where  all  the  girls  hear  of,  in  this  life,  is,,  that  it 
is  time  to  rise  and  come  to  dinner,  as  if  they  were  so  in 
significant  as  to  be  wholly  provided  for  when  they  are  fed 
and  clothed. 

It  is  with  great  indignation  that  I  see  such  crowds  of 
the  female  world  lost  to  human  society,  and  condemned 
to  a  laziness,  which  makes  life  pass  away  with  less  relish 
than  in  the  hardest  labour.  Palestris,  in  her  drawing-room, 

10  is  supported  by  spirits  to  keep  off  the  returns  of  spleen  and 
melancholy,  before  she  can  get  over  half  of  the  day  for  want 
of  something  to  do,  while  the  wench  in  the  kitchen  sings  and 
scours  from  morning  to  night. 

The  next  disagreeable  thing  to  a  lazy  lady,  is  a  very 
busy  one.  A  man  of  business  in  good  company,  who 
gives  an  account  of  his  abilities  and  despatches,  is  hardly 
more  insupportable  than  her  they  call  a  notable  woman, 
and  a  manager.  Lady  Good-day,  where  I  visited  the 
other  day,  at  a  very  polite  circle,  entertained  a  great  lady 

20  with  a  recipe  for  a  poultice,  and  gave  us  to  understand, 
that  she  had  done  extraordinary  cures  since  she  was  last 
in  town.  It  seems  a  countryman  had  wounded  himself 
with  his  scythe  as  he  was  mowing,  and  we  were  obliged 
to  hear  of  her  charity,  her  medicine,  and  her  humility, 
in  the  harshest  tone  and  coarsest  language  imaginable. 

What  I  would  request  in  all  this  prattle  is,  that  our 
females  would  either  let  us  have  their  persons,  or  their 
minds,  in  such  perfection  as  nature  designed  them. 

The  way  to  this  is,  that  those  who  are  in  the  quality  of 

30  gentlewomen,  should  propose  to  themselves  some  suitable 
method  of  passing  away  their  time.  This  would  furnish 
them  with  reflections  and  sentiments  proper  for  the 
companions  of  reasonable  men,  and  prevent  the  unnatural 
marriages  which  happen  every  day  between  the  most 
accomplished  women  and  the  veriest  oafs,  the  worthiest 
men  and  the  most  insignificant  females.  Were  the  general 


turn  of  women's  education  of  another  kind  than  it  is  at 
present,  we  should  want  one  another  for  more  reasons 
than  we  do  as  the  world  now  goes.  The  common  design 
of  parents,  is  to  get  their  girls  off  as  well  as  they  can  ; 
and  they  make  no  conscience  of  putting  into  our  hands  a 
bargain  for  our  whole  life,  which  will  make  our  hearts 
ache  every  day  of  it.  I  shall,  therefore,  take  this  matter 
into  serious  consideration,  and  will  propose,  for  the  better 
improvement  of  the  fair  sex,  a  Female  Library.  This 
collection  of  books  shall  consist  of  such  authors  as  do  not  10 
corrupt  while  they  divert,  but  shall  tend  more  immedi 
ately  to  improve  them  as  they  are  women.  They  shall  be 
such  as  shall  not  hurt  a  feature  by  the  austerity  of  their 
reflections,  nor  cause  one  impertinent  glance  by  the 
wantonness  of  them.  They  shall  all  tend  to  advance  the 
value  of  their  innocence  as  virgins,  improve*  their  under 
standing  as  wives,  and  regulate  their  tenderness  as 
parents.  It  has  been  very  often  said  in  these  lucubra 
tions,  "  that  the  ideas  which  most  frequently  pass  through 
our  imaginations,  leave  traces  of  themselves  in  our  20 
countenances."  There  shall  be  a  strict  regard  had  to  this 
in  my  Female  Library,  which  shall  be  furnished  with 
nothing  that  shall  give  supplies  to  ostentation  or  imperti 
nence  ;  but  the  whole  shall  be  so  digested  for  the  use  of 
my  students,  that  they  shall  not  go  out  of  character  in 
their  enquiries,  but  their  knowledge  appear  only  a  culti 
vated  innocence. 


No.  151.]  March  28,  1710. 

Ni  vis  boni 
In  ipsa  inesset  forma,  heec  formam  extinguerent. — Ter. 

These  things  would  extinguish  beauty,  if  there  were  not  an  innate 
pleasure-giving  energy  in  beauty  itself. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  March  27. 

WHEN  artists  would  expose  their  diamonds  to  an  advantage, 
they  usually  set  them  to  show  in  little  cases  of  black  velvet. 
By  this  means  the  jewels  appear  in  their  true  and  genuine 
lustre,  while  there  is  no  colour  that  can  infect  their  bright- 

10  ness,  or  give  a  false  cast  to  the  water.  When  I  was  at  the 
opera  the  other  night,  the  assembly  of  ladies  in  mourning 
made  me  consider  them  in  the  same  kind  of  view.  A  dress 
wherein  there  is  so  little  variety  shows  the  face  in  all  its 
natural  charms,  and  makes  one  differ  from  another  only  as  it 
is  more  or  less  beautiful.  Painters  are  ever  careful  of 
offending  against  a  rule  which  is  so  essential  in  all  just  re 
presentations.  The  chief  figure  must  have  the  strongest 
point  of  light,  and  not  be  injured  by  any  gay  colourings  that 
may  draw  away  the  attention  to  any  less  considerable  part  of 

20  the  picture.     The  present  fashion  obliges  everybody  to  be 
dressed  with  prtJpfiety,  and  makes  the  ladies'  faces  the  prin-- 
objectsfol  sight.     Every  beautiful  person  shines  out  in 
the  excelleinsrWith  which  nature  has  adorned  her;  gaudy 
ribbons  and  glaring  colours  being  now  out  of  use,  the  sex  has 
no  opportunity  given  them  to  disfigure  themselves,  which 
they  seldom  fail  to  do  whenever  it  lies  in  their  power.    When 
a  woman  comes  to  her  glass,  she  does  not  employ  her  time  in 
1  making  herself  look  more  advantageously  what  she  really  is ; 
I  but  endeavours  to  be  as  much  another  creature  as  she  pos- 

30  sibly  can.  Whether  this  happens  because  they  stay  so  long, 
and  attend  their  work  so  diligently,  that  they  forget  the 
faces  and  persons  which  they  first  sat  down  with,  or,  what- 


ever  it  is,  they  seldom  rise  from  the  toilet  the  same  women 
they  appeared  when  they  began  to  dress.  What  jewel  can 
the  charming  Cleora  place  in  her  ears  that  can  please  her  be 
holders  so  much  as  her  eyes  ?  The  cluster  of  diamonds  upon 
the  breast  can  add  no  beauty  to  the  fair  chest  of  ivory  which 
supports  it.  It  may  indeed  tempt  a  man  to  steal  a  woman, 
but  never  to  love  her.  Let  Thalestris  change  herself  into 
a  motley  party-coloured  animal :  the  pearl  necklace,  the 
flowered  stomacher,  the  artificial  nosegay,  and  shaded  furbe 
low,  may  be  of  use  to  attract  the  eye  of  the  beholder,  and  10 
turn  it  from  the  imperfections  of  her  features  and  shape. 
But  if  ladies  will  take  my  word  for  it  (and  as  they  dress 
to  please  men,  they  ought  to  consult  our  fancy  rather  than 
their  own  in  this  particular,)  I  can  assure  them,  there  is 
nothing  touches  our  imagination  so  much  as  a  beautiful 
woman  in  a  plain  dress.  There  might  be  more  agreeable 
ornaments  found  in  our  own  manufacture,  than  any  that 
rise  out  of  the  looms  of  Persia. 

This,  I  know,  is  a  very  harsh  doctrine  to  womankind,  who 
are  carried  away  with  everything  that  is  showy,  and  with  20 
what  delights  the  eye,  more  than  any  other  species  of  living 
creatures  whatsoever.  Were  the  minds  of  the  sex  laid  open, 
we  should  find  the  chief  idea  in  one  to  be  a  tippet,  in  another 
a  muff,  in  a  third  a  fan,  and  in  a  fourth  a  farthingale.  The 
memory  of  an  old  visiting  lady  is  so  filled  with  gloves,  silks, 
and  ribbons,  that  I  can  look  upon  it  as  nothing  else  but 
a  toy-shop.  A  matron  of  my  acquaintance,  complaining  of 
her  daughter's  vanity,  was  observing,  that  she  had  all  of  a 
sudden  held  up  her  head  higher  than  ordinary,  and  taken  an 
air  that  showed  a  secret  satisfaction  in  herself,  mixed  with  a  30 
scorn  of  others.  "  I  did  not  know,"  says  my  friend,  "what 
to  make  of  the  carriage  of  this  fantastical  girl,  until  I  was 
informed  by  her  eldest  sister,  that  she  had  a  pair  of  striped 
garters  on."  This  odd  turn  of  mind  often  makes  the  sex  un 
happy,  and  disposes  them  to  be  struck  with  everything  that 
makes  a  show,  however  trifling  and  superficial. 


Many  a  lady  has  fetched  a  sigh  at  the  toss  of  a  wig,  and 
been  ruined  by  the  tapping  of  a  snuff-box.  It  is  impossible 
to  describe  all  the  execution  that  was  done  by  the  shoulder- 
knot  while  that  fashion  prevailed,  or  to  reckon  up  all  the 
maidens  that  have  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  a  pair  of  fringed 
gloves.  A  sincere  heart  has  not  made  half  so  many  con 
quests  as  an  open  waistcoat;  and  I  should  be  g]ad  to  see 
an  able  head  make  so  good  a  figure  in  a  woman's  company  as 
a  pair  of  red  heels.  A  Grecian  hero,  when  he  was  asked 

10  whether  he  could  play  upon  the  lute,  thought  he  had  made  a 
very  good  reply,  when  he  answered,  "  No  ;  but  I  can  make  a 
great  city  of  a  little  one."  Notwithstanding  his  boasted 
wisdom,  I  appeal  to  the  heart  of  any  toast  in  town,  whether 
she  would  not  think  the  lutenist  preferable  to  the  statesman  ? 
I  do  not  speak  this  out  of  any  aversion  that  I  have  to  the 
sex ;  on  the  contrary,  I  have  always  had  a  tenderness  for 
them ;  but,  I  must  confess,  it  troubles  me  very  much  to  see 
the  generality  of  them  place  their  affections  on  improper 
objects,  and  give  up  all  the  pleasures  of  life  for  gewgaws  and 

20  trifles. 

Mrs.  Margery  Bickerstaff,  my  great  aunt,  had  a  thousand 
pounds  to  her  portion,  which  our  family  was  desirous  of 
keeping  among  themselves,  and  therefore  used  all  possible 
means  to  turn  off  her  thoughts  from  marriage.  The  method 
they  took  was,  in  any  time  of  danger,  to  throw  a  new  gown 
or  petticoat  in  her  way.  When  she  was  about  twenty-five 
years  of  age,  she  fell  in  love  with  a  man  of  an  agreeable 
temper  and  equal  fortune,  and  would  certainly  have  married 
him,  had  not  my  grandfather,  sir  Jacob,  dressed  her  up  in  a 

30  suit  of  flowered  satin  ;  upon  which  she  set  so  immoderate  a 
value  upon  herself,  that  the  lover  was  contemned  and  dis 
carded.  In  the  fortieth  year  of  her  age  she  was  again 
smitten ;  but  very  luckily  transferred  her  passion  to  a  tippet, 
which  was  presented  to  her  by  another  relation  who  was  in 
the  plot.  This,  with  a  white  sarsenet  hood,  kept  her  safe  in 
the  family  until  fifty.  About  sixty,  which  generally  pro- 


duces  a  kind  of  latter  spring  in  amorous  constitutions,  my 
aunt  Margery  had  again  a  colt's  tooth  in  her  head;  and 
would  certainly  have  eloped  from  the  mansion-house,  had 
not  her  brother  Simon,  who  was  a  wise  man  and  a  scholar, 
advised  to  dress  her  in  cherry-coloured  ribbons,  which  was 
the  only  expedient  that  could  have  been  found  out  by  the 
wit  of  man  to  preserve  the  thousand  pounds  in  our  family, 
part  of  which  I  enjoy  at  this  time. 

This  discourse  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  humourist  mentioned 
by  Horace,  called  Eutrapelus,  who,  when  he  designed  to  do  a  10 
man  a  mischief,  made  him  a  present  of  a  gay  suit;  and 
brings  to  my  memory  another  passage  of  the  same  author, 
when  he  describes  the  most  ornamental  dress  that  a  woman 
can  appear  in,  with  two  words,  simplex  munditiis,  which  I 
have  quoted  for  the  benefit  of  my  female  readers. 

No.  132.]  February  11,  1710. 

Habeo  senectnti  magnam  gratiam,  quae  mihi  sermonis  aviditatem 
auxit,  potionis  et  cibi  sustulit. — lull.  De  Senect. 

I  am  much  beholden  to  old  age,  which  has  increased  my  eagerness 
for  conversation,  in  proportion  as  it  has  lessened  my  appetites  of 
hunger  and  thirst.  20 

Shire-Lane,  February  10. 

AFTER  having  applied  my  mind  with  more  than  ordinary 
attention  to  my  studies,  it  is  my  usual  custom  to  relax  and 
unbend  it  in  the  conversation  of  such  as  are  rather  easy 
than  shining  companions.  This  I  find  particularly  necessary 
for  me  before  I  retire  to  rest,  in  order  to  draw  my  slumbers 
upon  me  by  degrees,  and  fall  asleep  insensibly.  This  is  the 
particular  use  I  make  of  a  set  of  heavy  honest  men,  with 
whom  I  have  passed  many  hours  with  much  indolence, 
though  not  with  great  pleasure.  Their  conversation  is  a  kind  30 



of  preparative  for  sleep  :  it  takes  the  mind  down  from  its 
abstractions,  leads  it  into  the  familiar  traces  of  thought,  and 
lulls  it  into  that  state  of  tranquillity,  which  is  the  condition 
of  a  thinking  man,  when  he  is  but  half  awake.  After  this, 
my  readers  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  the  account  which  I 
am  about  to  give  of  a  club  of  my  own  contemporaries,  among 
whom  I  pass  two  or  three  hours  every  evening.  This  I  look 
upon  as  taking  my  first  nap  before  I  go  to  bed.  The  truth 
of  it  is,  I  should  think  myself  unjust  to  posterity,  as  well  as 

10  to  the  society  at  the  Trumpet,  of  which  I  am  a  member,  did 
not  I  in  some  part  of  my  writings  give  an  account  of  the 
persons  among  whom  I  have  passed  almost  a  sixth  part  of 
my  time  for  these  last  forty  years.  Our  club  consisted 
originally  of  fifteen  ;  but,  partly  by  the  severity  of  the  law 
in  arbitrary  times,  and  partly  by  the  natural  effects  of  old 
age,  we  are  at  present  reduced  to  a  third  part  of  that 
number ;  in  which,  however,  we  have  this  consolation,  that 
the  best  company  is  said  to  consist  of  five  persons.  I  must 
confess,  besides  the  aforementioned  benefit  which  I  meet 

20  with  in  the  conversation  of  this  select  society,  I  am  not  the 
less  pleased  with  the  company,  in  that  I  find  myself  the 
greatest  wit  among  them,  and  am  heard  as  their  oracle  in  all 
points  of  learning  and  difficulty. 

Sir  Jeffery  Notch,  who  is  the  oldest  of  the  club,  has  been 
in  possession  of  the  right-hand  chair  time  out  of  mind,  and 
is  the  only  man  among  us  that  has  the  liberty  of  stirring 
the  fire.  This,  our  foreman,  is  a  gentleman  of  an  ancient 
family,  that  came  to  a  great  estate  some  years  before  he  had 
discretion,  and  run  it  out  in  hounds,  horses,  and  cock- 

30  fighting  ;  for  which  reason  he  looks  upon  himself  as  an 
honest,  worthy  gentleman,  who  has  had  misfortunes  in  the 
world,  and  calls  every  thriving  man  a  pitiful  upstart. 

Major  Matchlock  is  the  next  senior,  who  served  in  the  last 
civil  wars,  and  has  all  the  battles  by  heart.  He  does  not 
think  any  action  in  Europe  worth  talking  of  since  the  fight 
of  Marston  Moor ;  and  every  night  tells  us  of  his  having 


been  knocked  off  his  horse  at  the  rising  of  the  London 
apprentices  ;  for  which  he  is  in  great  esteem  among  us. 

Honest  old  Dick  Reptile  is  the  third  of  our  society.  He  is 
a  good-natured  indolent  man,  who  speaks  little  himself,  but 
laughs  at  our  jokes ;  and  brings  his  young  nephew  along 
with  him,  a  youth  of  eighteen  years  old,  to  show  him  good 
company,  and  give  him  a  taste  of  the  world.  This  young 
fellow  sits  generally  silent ;  but  whenever  he  opens  his 
mouth,  or  laughs  at  any  thing  that  passes,  he  is  constantly 
told  by  his  uncle,  after  a  jocular  manner,  "  Ay,  ay,  Jack,  you  10 
young  men  think  us  fools  ;  but  we  old  men  know  you  are." 

The  greatest  wit  of  our  company,  next  to  myself,  is  a 
bencher  of  the  neighbouring  inn,  who  in  his  youth  frequented 
the  ordinaries  about  Charing  Cross,  and  pretends  to  have 
been  intimate  with  Jack  Ogle.  He  has  about  ten  distichs  of 
Hudibras  without  book,  and  never  leaves  the  club  until  he 
has  applied  them  all.  If  any  modern  wit  be  mentioned,  or 
any  town -frolic  spoken  of,  he  shakes  his  head  at  the  dulness 
of  the  present  age,  and  tells  us  a  story  of  Jack  Ogle. 

For  my  own  part,  I  am  esteemed  among  them,  because  20 
they  see  I  am  something  respected  by  others  ;  though  at  the 
same  time  I  understand  by  their  behaviour,  that  I  am  con 
sidered  by  them  as  a  man  of  a  great  deal  of  learning,  but  no 
knowledge  of  the  world  ;  insomuch,  that  the  major  some 
times,  in  the  height  of  his  military  pride,  calls  me  the 
Philosopher :  and  Sir  Jeffery,  no  longer  ago  than  last 
night,  upon  a  dispute  what  day  of  the  month  it  was  then  in 
Holland,  pulled  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  and  cried,  "  What 
does  the  scholar  say  to  it  ? " 

Our  ci[ub  meets  precisely  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  ;  but  I  30 
did  not  come  last  evening  until  half  an  hour  after  seven,  by 
which  means  I  escaped  the  battle  of  Naseby,  which  the 
major  usually  begins  at  about  three  quarters  after  six  :  I 
found  also,  that  my  good  friend  the  bencher  had  already 
spent  three  of  his  distichs  ;  and  only  waited  an  opportunity 
to  hear  a  sermon  spoken  of,  that  he  might  introduce  the 


couplet  where  "a  stick"  rhymes  to  "ecclesiastic."  At  my 
entrance  into  the  room,  they  were  naming  a  red  petticoat 
and  a  cloak,  by  which  I  found  that  the  bencher  had  been 
diverting  them  with  a  story  of  Jack  Ogle. 

I  had  no  sooner  taken  my  seat,  but  Sir  Jeffery,  to  show 
his  good-will  towards  me,  gave  me  a  pipe  of  his  own 
tobacco,  and  stirred  up  the  fire.  I  look  upon  it  as  a  point  of 
morality,  to  be  obliged  by  those  who  endeavour  to  oblige 
me  ;  and  therefore,  in  requital  for  his  kindness,  and  to  set 

10  the  conversation  a-going,  I  took  the  best  occasion  I  could  to 
put  him  upon  telling  us  the  story  of  old  Gauntlett,  which  he 
always  does  with  very  particular  concern.  He  traced  up  his 
descent  on  both  sides  for  several  generations,  describing  his 
diet  and  manner  of  life,  with  his  several  battles,  and 
particularly  that  in  which  he  fell.  This  Gauntlett  was  a 
game  cock,  upon  whose  head  the  knight,  in  his  youth,  had 
won  five  hundred  pounds,  and  lost  two  thousand.  This 
naturally  set  the  major  upon  the  account  of  Edge-hill  fight, 
and  ended  in  a  duel  of  Jack  Ogle's. 

20  Old  Reptile  was  extremely  attentive  to  all  that  was  said, 
though  it  was  the  same  he  had  heard  every  night  for  these 
twenty  years,  and,  upon  all  occasions,  winked  upon  his 
nephew  to  mind  what  passed. 

This  may  suffice  to  give  the  world  a  taste  of  our  innocent 
conversation,  which  we  spun  out  until  about  ten  of  the 
clock,  when  my  maid  came  with  a  lantern  to  light  me  home. 
I  could  not  but  reflect  with  myself,  as  I  was  going  out,  upon 
the  talkative  humour  of  old  men,  and  the  little  figure  which 
that  part  of  life  makes  in  one  who  cannot  employ  his  natural 

30  propensity  in  discourses  which  would  make  him  venerable. 
I  must  own,  it  makes  me  very  melancholy  in  company,  when 
I  hear  a  young  man  begin  a  story  ;  and  have  often  observed, 
that  one  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  long  in  a  man  of  five-and- 
twenty,  gathers  circumstances  every  time  he  tells  it,  until  it 
grows  into  a  long  Canterbury  tale  of  two  hours  by  that  time 
he  is  threescore. 


The  only  way  of  avoiding  such  a  trifling  and  frivolous  old 
age  is,  to  lay  up  in  our  way  to  it  such  stores  of  knowledge 
and  observation,  as  may  make  us  useful  and  agreeable  in  our 
declining  years.  The  mind  of  man  in  a  long  life  will  become 
a  magazine  of  wisdom  or  folly,  and  will  consequently  dis 
charge  itself  in  something  impertinent  or  improving.  For 
which  reason,  as  there  is  nothing  more  ridiculous  than  an 
old  trifling  story-teller,  so  there  is  nothing  more  venerable, 
than  one  who  has  turned  his  experience  to  the  entertainment 
and  advantage  of  mankind.  10 

In  short,  we,  who  are  in  the  last  stage  of  life,  and  are  apt 
to  indulge  ourselves  in  talk,  ought  to  consider,  if  what  we 
speak  be  worth  being  heard,  and  endeavour  to  make  our 
discourse  like  that  of  Nestor,  which  Homer  compares  to  the 
flowing  of  honey  for  its  sweetness. 

I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  thought  guilty  of  this  excess  I  am 
speaking  of,  when  I  cannot  conclude  without  observing,  that 
Milton  certainly  thought  of  this  passage  in  Homer,  when,  in 
his  description  of  an  eloquent  spirit,  he  says, 

His  tongue  dropped  manna.  20 


No.  124]  January  24,  1710. 

Ex  humili  magna  ad  fastigia  rerum 
Extollit,  quoties  voluit  fortuna  jocari. 

Juv.  Sat.  iii.  39. 

Fortune  can,  for  her  pleasure,  fools  advance, 
And  toss  them  on  the  wheels  of  chance. — Dry  den. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  January  23. 
I  WENT  on  Saturday  last  to  make  a  visit  in  the  city  ;  and 
as  I   passed   through  Cheapside,  I   saw  crowds   of   people 
turning    down    towards    the    Bank,   and    struggling    who 


should  first  get  their  money  into  the  new-erected  lottery. 
"Tt  gave  mFlT~^eiat_.notiQlL-fl|Zt^6  credit  of  our  present- 
•\government  and  administration,   to  find   people    press_as 
eagerly  to  pay  money  as   theywould  'to  receive  it ;    and, 
at   the "same  'time,  a   due   respeclT~toT~that  boo!y~of  men 
who  have  found  out  so  pleasing  an  expedient  for  carrying 
on   the   common   cause,  that  they  have  turned  a  tax  into 
)a__diversion.     The  cheerfulness  or~spiiil,  and   the  hupuu  oT"" 
/  success,  which  this  project  has  occasioned  in  this  great  city, 

1^  lightens  the  burden  of  the  war,  and  put  me  in  mind  of 
^sonie  games,  which,  they  say,  were  invented  by  wise  men, 
who  were  lovers  of  their  country,  to  make  their  fellow- 
citizens  undergo  the  tediousness  and  fatigues  of  a  long 
siege.  I  think  there  is  a  kind  of  homage  due  to  Fortune, 
if  I  may  call  it  so  ;  and  that  I  should  be  wanting  to  my 
self,  if  I  did  not  lay  in  my  pretences  to  her  favour,  and 
pay  my  compliments  to  her  by  recommending  a  ticket  to 
her  disposal.  For  this  reason,  upon  my  return  to  my 
lodgings,  I  sold  off  a  couple  of  globes  and  a  telescope, 

20  which,  with  the  cash  I  had  by  me,  raised  the  sum  that 
was  requisite  for  that  purpose.  I  find  by  my  calculations, 
that  it  is  but  an  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  to  one 
against  my  being  worth  a  thousand  pounds  per  annum 
for  thirty-two  years ;  and  if  any  plumb  in  the  city  will 
lay  me  an  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  to  twenty 
shillings,  which  is  an  even  bet,  that  I  am  not  this  for 
tunate  man,  I  will  take  the  wager,  and  shall  look  upon 
him  as  a  man  of  singular  courage  and  fair  dealing  ;  having 
given  orders  to  Mr.  Morphew  to  subscribe  such  a  policy 

30  in  my  behalf,  if  any  person  accepts  of  the  offer.  I  must 
confess,  I  have  had  such  private  intimations  from  the 
twinkling  of  a  certain  star  in  some  of  my  astronomical 
observations,  that  I  should  be  unwilling  to  take  fifty 
pounds  a  year  for  my  chance,  unless  it  were  to  oblige  a 
particular  friend.  My  chief  business  at  present  is  to  my  mind  for  this  change  of  fortune  :  for  as  Seneca, 


who  was  a  greater  moralist,  and  a  much  richer  man  than 
I  shall  be  with  this  addition  to  my  present  income,  says — 
"  Munera  ista  Fortunes  putatis  ?  Insidice  sunt"  "  What  we 
look  upon  as  gifts  and  presents  of  Fortune,  are  traps  and 
snares  which  she]  lays  for  the  unwary."  I  am  arming 
myself  against  her  favours  with  all  my  philosophy  ;  and 
that  I  may  not  lose  myself  in  such  a  redundance  of 
unnecessary  and  superfluous  wealth,  I  have  determined 
to  settle  an  annual  pension  out  of  it  upon  a  family  of 
Palatines,  and  by  that  means  give  these  unhappy  strangers  10 
a  taste  of  British  property.  At  the  same  time,  as  I  have 
an  excellent  servant-maid,  whose  diligence  in  attending 
me  has  increased  in  proportion  to  my  infirmities,  I  shall 
settle  upon  her  the  revenue  arising  out  of  the  ten  pounds, 
and  amounting  to  fourteen  shillings  per  annum ;  with 
which  she  may  retire  into  Wales,  where  she  was  born  a 
gentlewoman,  and  pass  the  remaining  part  of  her  days  in 
a  condition  suitable  to  her  birth  and  quality.  It  was 
impossible  for  me  to  make  an  inspection  into  my  own 
fortune  on  this  occasion,  without  seeing,  at  the  same  time,  20 
the  fate  of  others  who  are  embarked  in  the  same  adven 
ture.  And  indeed  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  observe, 
that  the  war,  which  generally  impoverishes  those  who 
furnish  out  the  expense  of  it,  will  by  this  means  give 
estates  to  some,  without  making  others  the  poorer  for  it. 
I  have  lately  seen  several  in  liveries,  who  will  give  as 
good  of  their  own  very  suddenly  ;  and  took  a  particular 
satisfaction  in  the  sight  of  a  young  country  wench,  whom 
I  this  morning  passed  by  as  she  was  whirling  her  mop 
with  her  petticoats  tucked  up  very  agreeably,  who,  if  30 
there  is  any  truth  in  my  art,  is  within  ten  months  of  being 
the  handsomest  great  fortune  in  town.  I  must  confess, 
I  was  so  struck  with  the  foresight  of  what  she  is  to  be, 
that  I  treated  her  accordingly,  and  said  to  her — "  Pray, 
young  lady,  permit  me  to  pass  by."  I  would  for  this 
reason  advise  all  masters  and  mistresses  to  carry  it  with 


great  moderation  and  condescension  towards  their  servants 
until  next  Michaelmas,  lest  the  superiority  at  that  time 
should  be  inverted.  I  must  likewise  admonish  all  my 
brethren  and  fellow-adventurers  to  fill  their  minds  with 
proper  arguments  for  their  support  and  consolation  in 
case  of  ill-success.  It  so  happens  in  this  particular,  that 
though  the  gainers  will  have  no  reason  to  rejoice,  the  losers 
will  have  no  reason  to  complain.  I  remember,  the  day 
after  the  thousand  pound  prize  was  drawn  in  the  penny 

10  lottery,  I  went  to  visit  a  splenetic  acquaintance  of  mine, 
who  was  under  much  dejection,  and  seemed  to  me  to  have 
suffered  some  great  disappointment.  Upon  enquiry,  I 
found  he  had  put  two-pence  for  himself  and  his  son  into 
the  lottery,  and  that  neither  of  them  had  drawn  the 
thousand  pound.  Hereupon  this  unlucky  person  took 
occasion  to  enumerate  the  misfortunes  of  his  life,  and  con 
cluded  with  telling  me  that  he  never  was  successful  in 
any  of  his  undertakings.  I  was  forced  to  comfort  him  with 
the  common  reflection  upon  such  occasions,  that  men  of 

20  the  greatest  merit  are  not  always  men  of  the  greatest 
success,  and  that  persons  of  his  character  must  not  expect  to 
be  as  happy  as  fools.  I  shall  proceed  in  the  like  manner  with 
my  rivals  and  competitors  for  the  thousand  pounds  a  year, 
which  we  are  now  in  pursuit  of ;  and  that  I  may  give 
general  content  to  the  whole  body  of  candidates,  I  shall 
allow  all  that  draw  prizes  to  be  fortunate,  and  all  that  miss 
them  to  be  wise. 

I    must    not    here    omit   to    acknowledge   that  I    have 
received   several  letters  upon  this  subject,    but   find   one 

30  common  error  running  through  them  all,  which  is,  that 
the  writers  of  them  believe  their  fate  in  these  cases 
depends  upon  the  astrologer,  and  not  upon  the  stars  ;  as 
in  the  following  letter  from  one  who,  I  fear,  flatters  him 
self  with  hopes  of  success,  which  are  altogether  groundless, 
since  he  does  not  seem  to  me  so  great  a  fool  as  he  takes 
himself  to  be. 


"  SIR, 

"  Coming  to  town,  and  finding  my  friend  Mr. 
Partridge  dead  and  buried,  and  you  the  only  conjurer  in 
repute,  I  am  under  a  necessity  of  applying  myself  to 
you  for  a  favour,  which,  nevertheless,  I  confess  it  would 
better  become  a  friend  to  ask,  than  one  who  is,  as  I 
am,  altogether  a  stranger  to  you  ;  but  poverty,  you  know, 
is  impudent ;  and  as  that  gives  me  the  occasion,  so  that 
alone  could  give  me  the  confidence  to  be  thus  unfortunate. 

"  I  am,  Sir,  very  poor,  and  very  desirous  to  be  other-  10 
wise  :  I  have  got  ten  pounds,  which  I  design  to  venture 
in  the  lottery  now  on  foot.  What  I  desire  of  you  is, 
that  by  your  art,  you  will  choose  such  a  ticket  for  me  as 
shall  arise  a  benefit  sufficient  to  maintain  me.  I  must 
beg  leave  to  inform  you,  that  I  am  good  for  nothing,  and 
must  therefore  insist  upon  a  larger  lot  than  would  satisfy 
those  who  are  capable,  by  their  own  abilities,  of  adding 
something  to  what  you  should  assign  them ;  whereas  I 
must  expect  an  absolute  independent  maintenance,  because, 
as  I  said,  I  can  do  nothing.  It  is  possible,  after  this  free  20 
confession  of  mine,  you  may  think  I  do  not  deserve  to  be 
rich ;  but  I  hope  you  will  likewise  observe,  I  can  ill  afford 
to  be  poor.  My  own  opinion  is,  that  I  am  well  qualified 
for  an  estate,  and  have  a  good  title  to  luck  in  a  lottery  ; 
but  I  resign  myself  wholly  to  your  mercy,  not  without 
hopes  that  you  will  consider  the  less  I  deserve,  the  greater 
the  generosity  in  you.  If  you  reject  me,  I  have  agreed 
with  an  acquaintance  of  mine  to  bury  me  for  ten  pounds. 
I  once  more  recommend  myself  to  your  favour,  and  bid  you 
adieu  ! "  30 

I  cannot  forbear  publishing  another  letter  which  I  have 
received,  because  it  redounds  to  my  own  credit,  as  well  as 
to  that  of  a  very  honest  footman. 


''Jan.  23,  1710. 


"I  am  bound  in  justice  to  acquaint  you  that  I  put 
an  advertisement  into  your  last  paper  about  a  watch  that 
was  lost,  and  was  brought  to  me  on  the  very  day  your 
paper  came  out,  by  a  footman ;  who  told  me,  that  he 
would  not  have  brought  it  if  he  had  not  read  your 
discourse  on  that  day  against  avarice  ;  but  that  since  he 
had  read  it,  he  scorned  to  take  a  reward  for  doing  what 
10  in  justice  he  ought  to  do. 

"I  am,  Sir,  your  most  humble  Servant, 



No.  25.]  June  6,  1709. 

Quicquid  agunt  homines — 

....  nostri  est  farrago  libelli. — Juv.  Sat.  i.  85,  86, 

Whate'er  men  do,  or  say,  or  think,  or  dream, 
Our  motley  paper  seizes  for  its  theme. 

White's  Chocolate- House,  June  6. 

A  LETTER  from  a  young  lady,  written  in  the  most  passionate 
terms,  wherein  she  laments  the  misfortune  of  a  gentleman, 
20  her  lover,  who  was  lately  wounded  in  a  duel,  has  turned 
my  thoughts  to  that  subject,  and  inclined  me  to  examine 
into  the  causes  which  precipitate  men  into  so  fatal  a  folly. 
And  as  it  has  been  proposed  to  treat  of  subjects  of  gallantry 
in  the  article  from  hence,  and  no  one  point  in  nature  is  more 
proper  to  be  considered  by  the  company  who  frequent  this 
place  than  that  of  duels,  it  is  worth  our  consideration  to 
examine  into  this  chimerical  groundless  humour,  and  to  lay 
every  other  thought  aside,  until  we  have  stripped  it  of  all 
its  false  pretences  to  credit  and  reputation  amongst  men. 


But  I  must  confess,  when  I  consider  what  I  am  going 
about,  and  run  over  in  my  imagination  all  the  endless  crowd 
of  men  of  honour  who  will  be  offended  at  such  a  discourse  ; 
I  am  undertaking,  methinks,  a  work  worthy  an  invulnerable 
hero  in  romance,  rather  than  a  private  gentleman  with  a 
single  rapier ;  but  as  1  am  pretty  well  acquainted  by  great 
opportunities  with  the  nature  of  man,  and  know  of  a  truth 
that  all  men  fight  against  their  will,  the  danger  vanishes, 
and  resolution  rises  upon  this  subject.  For  this  reason,  I 
shall  talk  very  freely  on  a  custom  which  all  men  wish  10 
exploded,  though  no  man  has  courage  enough  to  resist  it. 

But  there  is  one  unintelligible  word,  which  I  fear  will 
extremely  perplex  my  dissertation,  and  I  confess  to  you  I 
find  very  hard  to  explain,  which  is  the  term  "  satisfaction." 
An  honest  country  gentleman  had  the  misfortune  to  fall 
into  company  with  two  or  three  modern  men  of  honour, 
where  he  happened  to  be  very  ill  treated;  and  one  of  the 
company,  being  conscious  of  his  offence,  sends  a  note  to  him 
in  the  morning,  and  tells  him,  he  was  ready  to  give  him 
satisfaction.  "This  is  fine  doing,"  says  the  plain  fellow ;  "  last  20 
night  he  sent  me  away  cursedly  out  of  humour,  and  this 
morning  he  fancies  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  be  run 
through  the  body  ! " 

As  the  matter  at  present  stands,  it  is  not  to  do  handsome 
actions  denominates  a  man  of  honour  ;  it  is  enough  if  he 
dares  to  defend  ill  ones.  Thus  you  often  see  a  common 
sharper  in  competition  with  a  gentleman  of  the  first  rank  ; 
though  all  mankind  is  convinced,  that  a  fighting  gamester  is 
only  a  pickpocket  with  the  courage  of  a  highwayman.  One 
cannot  with  any  patience  reflect  on  the  unaccountable  30 
jumble  of  persons  and  things  in  this  town  and  nation,  which 
occasions  very  frequently,  that  a  brave  man  falls  by  a  hand 
below  that  of  a  common  hangman,  and  yet  his  executioner 
escapes  the  clutches  of  the  hangman  for  doing  it.  I  shall 
therefore  hereafter  consider,  how  the  bravest  men  in  other 
ages  and  nations  have  behaved  themselves  upon  such  inci- 


dents  as  we  decide  by  combat ;  and  show,  from  their  practice, 
that  this  resentment  neither  has  its  foundation  from  true 
reason  or  solid  fame ;  but  is  an  imposture,  made  of  cowardice, 
falsehood,  and  want  of  understanding.  For  this  work,  a 
good  history  of  quarrels  would  be  very  edifying  to  the 
public,  and  I  apply  myself  to  the  town  for  particulars  and 
circumstances  within  their  knowledge,  which  may  serve  to 
embellish  the  dissertation  with  proper  cuts.  Most  of  the 
quarrels  I  have  ever  known,  have  proceeded  from  some 

10  valiant  coxcomb's  persisting  in  the  wrong,  to  defend  some 
prevailing  folly,  and  preserve  himself  from  the  ingenuous 
ness  of  owning  a  mistake. 

By  this  means  it  is  called  "  giving  a  man  satisfaction,"  to 
urge  your  offence  against  him  with  your  sword.  ...  If  the 
contradiction  in  the  very  terms  of  one  of  our  challenges  were 
as  well  explained  and  turned  into  downright  English,  would 
it  not  run  after  this  manner? 
"  SIR, 

"  Your  extraordinary  behaviour  last  night,  and  the 

20  liberty  you  were  pleased  to  take  with  me,  makes  me  this 
morning  give  you  this,  to  tell  you,  because  you  are  an  ill- 
bred  puppy,  I  will  meet  you  in  Hyde-park  an  hour  hence ; 
and  because  you  want  both  breeding  and  humanity,  I  desire 
you  would  come  with  a  pistol  in  your  hand,  on  horseback, 
and  endeavour  to  shoot  me  through  the  head,  to  teach  you 
more  manners.  If  you  fail  of  doing  me  this  pleasure,  I  shall 
say  you  are  a  rascal,  on  every  post  in  town  :  and  so,  sir, 
if  you  will  not  injure  me  more,  I  shall  never  forgive  what 
you  have  done  already.  Pray,  sir,  do  not  fail  of  getting 

30  every  thing  ready  ;  and  you  will  infinitely  oblige,  sir,  your 
most  obedient  humble  servant,  etc." 



No.  266.]  December  21,  1710. 

Rideat,  et  pulset  lasciva  decentius  setas. — Hor.  Ep.  ii.  2.  ult. 

Let  youth  more  decent  in  their  follies  scoff 

The  nauseous  scene,  and  hiss  thee  reeling  off.— Francis. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  December  20. 

IT  would  be  a  good  appendix  to  "The  Art  of  Living  and 
Dying,"  if  any  one  would  write  "  The  Art  of  Growing  Old," 
and  teach  men  to  resign  their  pretensions  to  the  pleasures 
and  gallantries  of  youth,  in  proportion  to  the  alteration  they 
find  in  themselves  by  the  approach  of  age  and  infirmities. 
The  infirmities  of  this  stage  of  life  would  be  much  fewer,  if  10 
we  did  not  affect  those  which  attend  the  more  vigorous  and 
active  part  of  our  days ;  but  instead  of  studying  to  be  wiser, 
or  being  contented  with  our  present  follies,  the  ambition  of 
many  of  us  is  also  to  be  the  same  sort  of  fools  we  formerly 
have  been.  I  have  often  argued,  as  I  am  a  professed  lover  of 
women,  that  our  sex  grows  old  with  a  much  worse  grace 
than  the  other  does  ;  and  have  ever  been  of  opinion,  that 
there  are  more  well -pleased  old  women,  than  old  men.  I 
thought  it  a  good  reason  for  this,  that  the  ambition  of  the 
fair  sex  being  confined  to  advantageous  marriages,  or  shin-  20 
ing  in  the  eyes  of  men,  their  parts  were  over  sooner,  and 
consequently  the  errors  in  the  performances  of  them.  The 
conversation  of  this  evening  has  not  convinced  me  of  the 
contrary ;  for  one  or  two  fop-women  shall  not  make  a  balance 
for  the  crowds  of  coxcombs  among  ourselves,  diversified 
according  to  the  different  pursuits  of  pleasure  and  business. 

Returning  home  this  evening  a   little   before  my  usual 
hour,  I  scarce  had  seated  myself  in  my  easy  chair,  stirred 
the  fire,  and  stroked  my  cat,  but  I  heard  somebody  come 
rumbling  up  stairs.     I  saw  my  door  opened,  and  a  human  30 
figure  advancing  towards  me,  so  fantastically  put  together, 


that  it  was  some  minutes  before  I  discovered  it  to  be  my  old 
and  intimate  friend,  Sam  Trusty.  Immediately  I  rose  up, 
and  placed  him  in  my  own  seat ;  a  compliment  I  pay  to  few. 
The  first  thing  he  uttered  was,  "Isaac,  fetch  me  a  cup  of 
your  cherry-brandy  before  you  offer  to  ask  any  question." 
He  drank  a  lusty  draught,  sat  silent  for  some  time,  and  at 
last  broke  out :  "  I  am  come,"  quoth  he,  "  to  insult  thee  for 
an  old  fantastic  dotard,  as  thou  art,  in  ever  defending  the 
women.  I  have  this  evening  visited  two  widows,  who  are 

10  now  in  that  state  I  have  often  heard  you  call  an  '  after-life ' ; 
I  suppose  you  mean  by  it,  an  existence  which  grows  out 
of  past  entertainments,  and  is  an  untimely  delight  in  the 
satisfactions  which  they  once  set  their  hearts  upon  too  much 
to  be  ever  able  to  relinquish.  Have  but  patience,"  continued 
he,  "until  I  give  you  a  succinct  account  of  my  ladies,  and  of 
this  night's  adventure.  They  are  much  of  an  age,  but  very 
different  in  their  characters.  The  one  of  them,  with  all  the 
advances  which  years  have  made  upon  her,  goes  on  in  a 
certain  romantic  road  of  love  and  friendship  which  she  fell 

20  into  in  her  teens  ;  the  other  has  transferred  the  amorous 
passions  of  her  first  years  to  the  love  of  cronies,  pets,  and 
favourites,  with  which  she  is  always  surrounded ;  but  the 
genius  of  each  of  them  will  best  appear  by  the  account  of 
what  happened  to  me  at  their  houses.  About  five  this  after 
noon,  being  tired  with  study,  the  weather  inviting,  and  time 
lying  a  little  upon  my  hands,  I  resolved,  at  the  instigation 
of  my  evil  genius,  to  visit  them  ;  their  husbands  having 
been  our  contemporaries.  This  I  thought  I  could  do  without 
much  trouble  ;  for  both  live  in  the  very  next  street.  I  went 

30  first  to  my  lady  Camomile ;  and  the  butler,  who  had  lived  long 
in  the  family,  and  seen  me  often  in  his  master's  time,  ushered 
me  very  civilly  into  the  parlour,  and  told  me  though  my  lady 
had  given  strict  orders  to  be  denied,  he  was  sure  I  might  be 
admitted,  and  bid  the  black  boy  acquaint  his  lady  that  I  was 
come  to  wait  upon  her.  In  the  window  lay  two  letters,  one 
broke  open,  the  other  fresh  sealed  with  a  wafer  :  the  first 

ON    THE   ART   OF   GROWING   OLD.  47 

directed  to  the  divine  Cosmelia,  the  second  to  the  charming 
Lucinda ;  but  both,  by  the  indented  characters,  appeared  to 
have  been  writ  by  very  unsteady  hands.  Such  uncommon 
addresses  increased  my  curiosity,  and  put  me  upon  asking 
my  old  friend  the  butler,  if  he  knew  who  those  persons 
were  ?  "  Very  well,"  says  he,  "  that  is  from  Mrs.  Furbish  to 
my  lady,  an  old  school-fellow  and  great  crony  of  her  lady 
ship's  ;  and  this  the  answer."  I  enquired  in  what  county 
she  lived.  •'  Oh  dear  !  "  says  he,  "  but  just  by  in  the  neigh 
bourhood.  Why,  she  was  here  all  this  morning,  and  that  10 
letter  came  and  was  answered  within  these  two  hours. 
They  have  taken  an  odd  fancy,  you  must  know,  to  call  one 
another  hard  names  ;  but,  for  all  that,  they  love  one  another 
hugely."  By  this  time  the  boy  returned  with  his  lady's 
humble  service  to  me,  desiring  I  would  excuse  her  ;  for  she 
could  not  possibly  see  me,  nor  any  body  else,  for  it  was 

"  Methinks,"  says  I,  "  such  innocent  folly  as  two  old 
women's  courtship  to  each  other,  should  rather  make  you 
merry  than  put  you  out  of  humour."  "  Peace,  good  Isaac,"  20 
says  he,  "  no  interruption,  I  beseech  you.  I  got  soon  to  Mrs. 
Feeble's  ;  she  that  was  formerly  Betty  Frisk  ;  you  must 
needs  remember  her ;  Tom  Feeble  of  Brazen  Nose  fell  in 
love  with  her  for  her  fine  dancing.  Well,  Mrs.  Ursula, 
without  further  ceremony,  carries  me  directly  up  to  her 
mistress's  chamber,  where  I  found  her  environed  by  four  of 
the  most  mischievous  animals  that  can  ever  infest  a  family  : 
an  old  shock  dog  with  one  eye,  a  monkey  chained  to  one  side 
of  the  chimney,  a  great  grey  squirrel  to  the  other,  and  a 
parrot  waddling  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  However,  for  a  30 
while,  all  was  in  a  profound  tranquillity.  Upon  the  mantel- 
tree,  for  I  am  a  pretty  curious  observer,  stood  a  pot  of  lam- 
betive  electuary,  with  a  stick  of  liquorice,  and  near  it  a  phial 
of  rose-water,  and  powder  of  tutty.  Upon  the  table  lay  a 
pipe  filled  with  betony  and  colt's- foot,  a  roll  of  wax-candle, 
a  silver  spitting-pot,  and  a  Seville  orange.  The  lady  was 


placed  in  a  large  wicker-chair,  and  her  feet  wrapped  up  in 
flannel,  supported  by  cushions ;  and  in  this  attitude,  would 
you  believe  it,  Isaac,  she  was  reading  a  romance  with 
spectacles  on.  The  first  compliments  over,  as  she  was  in 
dustriously  endeavouring  to  enter  upon  conversation,  a 
violent  fit  of  coughing  seized  her.  This  awaked  Shock, 
and  in  a  trice  the  whole  room  was  in  an  uproar  ;  for  the  dog 
barked,  the  squirrel  squealed,  the  monkey  chattered,  the 
parrot  screamed,  and  Ursula,  to  appease  them,  was  more 

10  clamorous  than  all  the  rest.  You,  Isaac,  who  know  how  any 
harsh  noise  affects  my  head,  may  guess  what  I  suffered  from 
the  hideous  din  of  these  discordant  sounds.  At  length  all 
was  appeased,  and  quiet  restored  :  a  chair  was  drawn  for  me, 
where  I  was  no  sooner  seated,  but  the  parrot  fixed  his  horny 
beak,  as  sharp  as  a  pair  of  shears,  in  one  of  my  heels,  just 
above  the  shoe.  I  sprung  from  the  place  with  an  unusual 
agility,  and  so,  being  within  the  monkey's  reach,  he  snatches 
off  my  new  bob-wig,  and  throws  it  upon  two  apples  that 
were  roasting  by  a  sullen  sea-coal  fire.  I  was  nimble  enough 

20  to  save  it  from  any  further  damage  than  singeing  the  fore- 
top.  I  put  it  on  ;  and  composing  myself  as  well  as  I  could, 
I  drew  my  chair  towards  the  other  side  of  the  chimney. 
The  good  lady,  as  soon  as  she  had  recovered  breath, 
employed  it  in  making  a  thousand  apologies,  and,  with  great 
eloquence,  and  a  numerous  train  of  words,  lamented  my 
misfortune.  In  the  middle  of  her  harangue,  I  felt  some 
thing  scratching  near  my  knee,  and  feeling  what  it  should 
be,  found  the  squirrel  had  got  into  my  coat  pocket.  As  I 
endeavoured  to  remove  him  from  his  burrow,  he  made  his 

30  teeth  meet  through  the  fleshy  part  of  my  fore  finger.  This 
gave  me  an  inexpressible  pain.  The  Hungary  water  was 
immediately  brought  to  bathe  it,  and  goldbeaters'  skin 
applied  to  stop  the  blood.  The  lady  renewed  her  excuses  ; 
but  being  now  out  of  all  patience,  I  abruptly  took  my  leave, 
and  hobbling  down  stairs  with  heedless  haste,  I  set  my  foot 
full  in  a  pail  of  water,  and  down  we  came  to  the  bottom 


together."  Here  my  friend  concluded  his  narrative,  and, 
with  a  composed  countenance,  I  began  to  make  him  com 
pliments  of  condolence  ;  but  he  started  from  his  chair,  and 
said,  "  Isaac,  you  may  spare  your  speeches,  I  expect  no  reply. 
When  I  told  you  this,  I  knew  you  would  laugh  at  me ;  but 
the  next  woman  that  makes  me  ridiculous  shall  be  a  young 


No.  142.]  March  7,  1709. 

Shire-Lane,  March  6. 

ALL  persons  who  employ  themselves  in  public,  are  still 
interrupted  in  the  course  of  their  affairs  ;  and,  it  seems,  the  10 
admired  cavalier  Nicolim  himself  is  commanded  by  the 
ladies,  who  at  present  employ  their  time  with  great  assiduity 
in  the  care  of  the  nation,  to  put  off  his  day  until  he  shall 
receive  their  commands,  and  notice  that  they  are  at  leisure 
for  diversions.  In  the  mean  time  it  is  not  to  be  expressed, 
how  many  cold  chickens  the  fair-ones  have  eaten  since  this 
day  sevennight  for  the  good  of  their  country.  This  great 
occasion  has  given  birth  to  many  discoveries  of  high  moment 
for  the  conduct  of  life.  There  is  a  toast  of  my  acquaintance 
who  told  me,  "  she  had  now  found  out,  that  it  was  day  before  20 
nine  in  the  morning  "  ;  and  I  am  very  confident,  if  the  affair 
hold  many  days  longer,  the  ancient  hours  of  eating  will  be 
revived  among  us,  many  having  by  it  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  luxury  of  hunger  and  thirst. 

There  appears,  methinks,  something  very  venerable  in  all 
assemblies  :  and  I  must  confess,  I  envied  all  who  had  youth 
and  health  enough  to  make  their  appearance  there,  that  they 
had  the  happiness  of  being  a  whole  day  in  the  best  company 
in  the  world.  During  the  adjournments  of  that  awful  court, 
a  neighbour  of  mine  was  telling  me,  that  it  gave  him  a  30 


•       50  THE  TATLER. 

notion  of  the  ancient  grandeur  of  the  English  hospitality,  to 
see  Westminster-Hall  a  dining-room.  There  is  a  cheerful 
ness  in  such  repasts,  which  is  very  delightful  to  tempers 
which  are  so  happy  as  to  be  clear  of  spleen  and  vapour  ;  for, 
to  the  jovial,  to  see  others  pleased  is  the  greatest  of  all 

But,  since  age  and  infirmities  forbid  my  appearance  at 
such  public  places,  the  next  happiness  is  to  make  the  best 
use  of  privacy,  and  acquit  myself  of  the  demands  of  my 
10  correspondents.  The  following  letter  is  what  has  given  me 
no  small  inquietude,  it  being  an  accusation  of  partiality,  and 
disregard  to  merit,  in  the  person  of  a  virtuoso,  who  is  the 
most  eloquent  of  all  men  upon  small  occasions,  and  is  the 
more  to  be  admired  for  his  prodigious  fertility  of  invention, 
which  never  appears  but  upon  subjects  which  others  would 
have  thought  barren.  But  in  consideration  of  his  uncommon 
talents,  I  am  contented  to  let  him  be  the  hero  of  my  next 
two  days,  by  inserting  his  friend's  recommendation  of  him  at 

20  "Nando's,  Feb.  28,  1709. 


"  I  am  just  come  out  of  the  country,  and  upon  perusing 
your  late  lucubrations,  I  find  Charles  Lillie  to  be  the  darling 
of  your  affections  ;  that  you  have  given  him  a  place,  and 
taken  no  small  pains  to  establish  him  in  the  world ;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  have  passed  by  his  name-sake,  at  this  end  of 
the  town,  as  if  he  was  a  citizen  defunct,  and  one  of  no  use  in 
a  commonwealth.  I  must  own,  his  circumstances  are  so  good, 
and  so  well  known,  that  he  does  not  stand  in  need  of  having 

30  his  fame  published  to  the  world  ;  but,  being  of  an  ambitious 
spirit,  and  an  aspiring  soul,  he  would  be  rather  proud  of  the 
honour,  than  desirous  of  the  profit,  which  might  result  from 
your  recommendation.  He  is  a  person  of  a  particular  genius, 
the  first  that  brought  toys  in  fashion,  and  baubles  to 
perfection.  He  is  admirably  well  versed  in  screws,  springs, 
and  hinges,  and  deeply  read  in  knives,  combs,  or  scissors, 


buttons,  or  buckles.  He  is  a  perfect  master  of  words,  which, 
uttered  with  a  smooth  voluble  tongue,  flow  into  a  most 
persuasive  eloquence  ;  insomuch,  that  I  have  known  a 
gentleman  of  distinction  find  several  ingenious  faults  with  a 
toy  of  his,  and  show  his  utmost  dislike  to  it,  as  being  either 
useless  or  ill-contrived  ;  but  when  the  orator,  behind  the 
counter,  had  harangued  upon  it  for  an  hour  and  a  half, 
displayed  its  hidden  beauties,  and  revealed  its  secret  per 
fections,  he  has  wondered  how  he  had  been  able  to  spend  so 
great  a  part  of  his  life  without  so  important  a  utensil.  I  10 
will  not  pretend  to  furnish  out  an  inventory  of  all  the 
valuable  commodities  that  are  to  be  found  at  his  shop. 

"  I  shall  content  myself  with  giving  an  account  of  what  I 
think  most  curious.  Imprimis,  his  -pocket-books  are  very 
neat  and  well  contrived,  not  for  keeping  bank-bills,  or 
goldsmiths  notes,  I  confess  ;  but  they  are  admirable  for 
registering  the  lodgings  of  Madonas,  and  for  preserving 
letters  from  ladies  of  quality.  His  whips  and  spurs  are  so 
nice,  that  they  will  make  one  that  buys  them  ride  a  fox 
hunting,  though  before  he  hated  noise  and  early  rising,  and  20 
was  afraid  of  breaking  his  neck.  His  seals  are  curiously 
fancied,  and  exquisitely  well  cut,  and  of  great  use  to 
encourage  young  gentlemen  to  write  a  good  hand.  Ned 
Puzzle-post  has  been  ill  used  by  his  writing  master,  and 
writ  a  sort  of  Chinese,  or  downright  Scrawlian  ;  however, 
upon  his  buying  a  seal  of  my  friend,  he  is  so  much  improved 
by  continual  writing,  that  it  is  believed  in  a  short  time  one 
may  be  able  to  read  his  letters,  and  find  out  his  meaning, 
without  guessing.  His  pistols  and  fusees  are  so  very  good, 
that  they  are  fit  to  be  laid  up  among  the  finest  china.  Then  30 
his  tweezer-cases  are  incomparable  :  you  shall  have  one  not 
much  bigger  than  your  finger,  with  seventeen  several 
instruments  in  it,  all  necessary  every  hour  of  the  day,  during  • 
the  whole  course  of  a  man's  life.  But  if  this  virtuoso  excels 
in  one  thing  more  than  another,  it  is  in  canes.  He  has  spent 
his  most  select  hours  in  the  .knowledge  of  them  ;  and  is 


arrived  at  that  perfection,  that  he  is  able  to  hold  forth  upon 
canes  longer  than  upon  any  one  subject  in  the  world.  In 
deed,  his  canes  are  so  finely  clouded,  and  so  well  made  up, 
either  with  gold  or  amber  heads,  that  I  am  of  the  opinion 
it  is  impossible  for  a  gentleman  to  walk,  talk,  sit,  or  stand, 
as  he  should  do,  without  one  of  them.  He  knows  the  value 
of  a  cane,  by  knowing  the  value  of  the  buyer's  estate.  Sir 
Timothy  Shallow  has  two  thousand  pounds  per  annum,  and 
Tom  Empty,  one.  They  both  at  several  times  bought  a  cane 

10  of  Charles  :  sir  Timothy's  cost  ten  guineas,  and  Tom  Empty's 
five.  Upon  comparing  them,  they  were  perfectly  alike.  Sir 
Timothy,  surprised  there  should  be  no  difference  in  the 
canes,  and  so  much  in  the  price,  comes  to  Charles  :  '  Charles,' 
says  he,  'you  have  sold  me  a  cane  here  for  ten  pieces,  and 
the  very  same  to  Tom  Empty  for  five.'  *  Sir  Timothy,'  says 
Charles,  '  I  am  concerned  that  you,  whom  I  took  to  under 
stand  canes  better  than  any  baronet  in  town,  should  be  so 
overseen  ! '  '  Why,  sir  Timothy,  your's  is  a  true  Jambee, 
and  esquire  Empty's  only  a  plain  Dragon.' 

20  "This  virtuoso  has  a  parcel  of  Jambees  now  growing  in 
the  East  Indies,  where  he  keeps  a  man  on  purpose  to  look 
after  them,  which  will  be  the  finest  that  ever  landed  in 
Great  Britain,  and  will  be  fit  to  cut  about  two  years  hence. 
Any  gentleman  may  subscribe  for  as  many  as  he  pleases. 
Subscriptions  will  be  taken  in  at  his  shop  at  ten  guineas 
each  joint.  They  that  subscribe  for  six  shall  have  a  Dragon 
gratis.  This  is  all  I  have  to  say  at  present  concerning 
Charles's  curiosities ;  and  hope  it  may  be  sufficient  to 
prevail  with  you  to  take  him  into  your  consideration,  which 

30  if  you  comply  with,  you  will  oblige 

"Your  humble  servant." 

N.B.  "Whereas  there  came  out,  last  term,  several  gold 
snuff-boxes,  and  others  :  this  is,  to  give  notice,  that  Charles 
will  put  out  a  new  edition  on  Saturday  next,  which  will  be 
the  only  one  in  fashion  until  after  Easter.  The  gentleman 
that  gave  fifty  pounds  for  the  box  set  with  diamonds,  may 


show  it  until  Sunday  night,  provided  he  goes  to  church  ;  but 
not  after  that  time,  there  being  one  to  be  published  on 
Monday,  which  will  cost  fourscore  guineas. 


No.  264.]  December  16,  1710. 

Favete  linguis.  — Hor.  Od.  iii.  2.  2. 
Favour  your  tongues. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  December  15. 

BOCCALINI,  in  his  "  Parnassus,"  indicts  a  laconic  writer  for 
speaking  that  in  three  words  which  he  might  have  said  in 
two,  and  sentences  him  for  his  punishment  to  read  over  all 
the  works  of  Guicciardini.  This  Guicciardini  is  so  very  10 
prolix  and  circumstantial  in  his  writings,  that  I  remember 
our  countryman,  doctor  Donne,  speaking  of  that  majestic 
and  concise  manner  in  which  Moses  has  described  the 
creation  of  the  world,  adds,  "  that  if  such  an  author  as 
Guicciardini  were  to  have  written  on  such  a  subject,  the 
world  itself  would  not  have  been  able  to  have  contained  the 
books  that  gave  the  history  of  its  creation." 

I  look  upon  a  tedious  talker,  or  what  is  generally  known 
by  the  name  of  a  story-teller,  to  be  much  more  insufferable 
than  even  a  prolix  writer.  An  author  may  be  tossed  out  of  20 
your  hand,  and  thrown  aside  when  he  grows  dull  and  tire 
some  ;  but  such  liberties  are  so  far  from  being  allowed 
towards  your  orators  in  common  conversation,  that  I  have 
known  a  challenge  sent  a  person  for  going  out  of  the  room 
abruptly,  and  leaving  a  man  of  honour  in  the  midst  of  a  dis 
sertation.  This  evil  is  at  present  so  very  common  and 
epidemical,  that  there  is  scarce  a  coffee-house  in  town  that 
has  not  some  speakers  belonging  to  it,  who  utter  their 
political  essays,  and  draw  parallels  out  of  Baker's  "Chronicle," 


to  almost  every  part  of  her  majesty's  reign.  It  was  said  of 
two  ancient  authors,  who  had  very  different  beauties  in  their 
style,  "  that  if  you  took  a  word  from  one  of  them,  you  only 
spoiled  his  eloquence  ;  but  if  -you  took  a  word  from  the  other, 
you  spoiled  his  sense."  I  have  often  applied  the  first  part  of 
this  criticism  to  several  of  these  coffee-house  speakers  whom 
I  have  at  present  in  my  thoughts,  though  the  character  that 
is  given  to  the  last  of  those  authors,  is  what  I  would  recom 
mend  to  the  imitation  of  my  loving  countrymen.  But  it  is 

10  not  only  public  places  of  resort,  but  private  clubs  and  con 
versations  over  a  bottle,  that  are  infested  with  this  loquacious 
kind  of  animal,  especially  with  that  species  which  I  compre 
hend  under  the  name  of  a  story-teller.  I  would  earnestly 
desire  these  gentlemen  to  consider,  that  no.  point  of  wit  or 
mirth  at  the  end  of  a  story  can  atone  for  the  half  hour  that 
has  been  lost  before  they  come  at  it.  I  would  likewise  lay 
it  home  to  their  serious  consideration,  whether  they  think 
that  every  man  in  the  company  has  not  a  right  to  speak  as 
well  as  themselves  ?  and  whether  they  do  not  think  they 

20  are  invading  another  man's  property,  when  they  engross  the 
time  which  should  be  divided  equally  among  the  company  to 
their  own  private  use  ? 

What  makes  this  evil  the  much  greater  in  conversation  is, 
that  these  humdrum  companions  seldom  endeavour  to  wind 
up  their  narrations  into  a  point  of  mirth  or  instruction, 
which  might  make  some  amends  for  the  tediousness  of  them ; 
but  think  they  have  a  right  to  tell  any  thing  that  has 
happened  within  their  memory.  They  look  upon  matter 
of  fact  to  be  a  sufficient  foundation  for  a  story,  and  give 

30  us  a  long  account  of  things,  not  because  they  are  entertaining 
or  surprising,  but  because  they  are  true. 

My  ingenious  kinsman,  Mr.  Humphry  Wagstaff,  used  to 
say,  "the  life  of  man  is  too  short  for  a  story-teller." 

Methusalem  might  be  half  an  hour  in  telling  what  o'clock 
it  was  :  but  as  for  us  postdiluvians,  we  ought  to  do  every 
thing  .  in  haste  ;  and  in  our  speeches,  as  well  as  actions, 


remember  that  our  time  is  short.  A  man  that  talks  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  together  in  company,  if  I  meet  him 
frequently,  takes  up  a  great  parti  of  my  span.  A  quarter  of 
an  hour  may  be  reckoned  the  eight-and-fortieth  part  of  a 
day,  a  day  the  three  hundred  and  sixtieth  part  of  a  year, 
and  a  year  the  threescore  and  tenth  part  of  life.  By  this 
moral  arithmetic,  supposing  a  man  to  be  in'  the  talking 
world  one  third  part  of  the  day,  whoever  gives  another  a 
quarter  of  an  hour's  hearing,  makes  him  a  sacrifice  of  more 
than  the  four  hundred  thousandth  part  of  his  conversable  10 

I  would  establish  but  one  great  general  rule  to  be  observed 
in  all  conversation,  which  is  this,  "  that  men  should  not  talk 
to  please  .themselves,  but  those  that  hear  them."  This  would 
make  them  consider,  whether  what  they  speak  be  worth 
hearing  ;  whether  there  be  either  wit  or  sense  in  what  they 
are  about  to  say  ;  and,  whether  it  be  adapted  to  the  time 
when,  the  place  where,  and  the  person  to  whom,  it  is  spoken. 

For  the  utter  extirpation  of  these  orators  and  story 
tellers,  which  I  look  upon  as  very  great  pests  of  society,  20 
I  have  invented  a  watch  which  divides  the  minute  into 
twelve  parts,  after  the  same  manner  that  the  ordinary 
watches  are  divided  into  hours  :  and  will  endeavour  to  get 
a  patent,  which  shall  oblige  every  club  or  company  to  pro 
vide  themselves  with  one  of  these  watches,  that  shall  lie 
upon  the  table,  as  an  hour-glass  is  often  placed  near  the 
pulpit,  to  measure  out  the  length  of  a.  discourse. 

I  shall  be  willing  to  allow  a  man  one  round  of  my  watch, 
that  is,  a  whole  minute,  to  speak  in  ;  but  if  he  exceeds  that 
time,  it  shall  be  lawful  for  any  of  the  company  to  look  upon  30 
the  watch,  or  to  call  him  down  to  order. 

Provided,  however,  that  if  any  one  can  make  it  appear 
he  is  turned  of  threescore,  he  may  take  two,  or,  if  he  pleases, 
three  rounds  of  the  watch  without  giving  offence.  Provided, 
also,  that  this  rule  be  not  construed  to  extend  to  the  fair 
sex,  who  shall  still  be  at  liberty  to  talk  by  the  ordinary 


watch  that  is  now  in  use.  I  would  likewise  earnestly 
recommend  this  little  automaton,  which  may  be  easily 
carried  in  the  pocket  without  any  incumbrance,  to  all  such 
as  are  troubled  with  this  infirmity  of  speech,  that  upon 
pulling  out  their  watches,  they  may  have  frequent  occasion 
to  consider  what  they  are  doing,  and  by  that  means  cut  the 
thread  of  the  story  short,  and  hurry  to  a  conclusion.  I 
shall  only  add,  that  this  watch,  with  a  paper  of  directions 
how  to  use  it,  is  sold  at  Charles  Lillie's. 

10  I  am  afraid  a  Tatler  will  be  thought  a  very  improper 
paper  to  censure  this  humour  of  being  talkative  ;  but  I 
would  have  my  readers  know  that  there  is  a  great  difference 
between  tattle  and  loquacity,  as  I  shall  show  at  large  in  a 
following  lucubration  ;  it  being  my  design  to  throw  away  a 
candle  upon  that  subject,  in  order  to  explain  the  whole  art 
of  tattling  in  all  its  branches  and  subdivisions. 

No.  167.]  May  4,  1710. 

Segnius  irritant  animos  demissa  per  aurem, 
Quam  quae  sunt  oculis  subjecta  fidelibus. 

Hor.  Ars  Poet.  180. 
.  .  .  What  we  hear 
20  "With  weaker  passion  will  affect  the  heart, 

Than  when  the  faithful  eye.  beholds  the  part,— Francis. 

From  my  own  Apartment^  May  2. 

HAVING  received  notice,  that  the  famous  actor,  Mr.  Better- 
ton  was  to  be  interred  this  evening  in  the  cloisters  near 
Westminster-abbey,  I  was  resolved  to  walk  thither  ;  and 
see  the  last  office  done  to  a  man  whom  I  had  always  very 
much  admired,  and  from  whose  action  I  had  received  more 
strong  impressions  of  what  is  great  and  noble  in  human 
nature,  than  from  the  arguments  of  the  most  solid  philo- 

BETTERTON  THE  ACTOR,        -  57 

sophers,  or  the  descriptions  of  the  most  charming  poets  I 
had  ever  read.  As  the  rude  and  untaught  multitude  are 
no  way  wrought  upon  more  effectually,  than  by  seeing 
public  punishments  and  executions ;  so  men  of  letters  and 
education  feel  their  humanity  most  forcibly  exercised,  when 
they  attend  the  obsequies  of  men  who  had  arrived  at  any 
perfection  in  liberal  accomplishments.  Theatrical  action  is 
to  be  esteemed  as  such,  except  it  be  objected  that  we  cannot 
call  that  an  art  which  cannot  be  attained  by  art.  Voice, 
stature,  motion,  and  other  gifts,  must  be  very  bountifully  10 
bestowed  by  nature,  or  labour  and  industry  will  but  push 
the  unhappy  endeavourer  in  that  way  the  further  off  his 

Such  an  actor  as  Mr.  Betterton  ought  to  be  recorded 
with  the  same  respect  as  Roscius  among  the  Romans.  The 
greatest  orator  has  thought  fit  to  quote  his  judgment,  and 
celebrate  his  life.  Roscius  was  the  example  .to  all  that 
would  form  themselves  into  proper  and  winning  behaviour. 
His  action  was  so  well  adapted  to  the  sentiments  he  ex 
pressed,  that  the  youth  of  Rome  thought  they  wanted  only  20 
to  be  virtuous,  to  be  as  graceful  in  their  appearance  as 
Roscius.  The  imagination  took  a  lovely  impression  of  what 
was  great  and  good ;  and  they,  who  never  thought  of 
setting  up  for  the  art  of  imitation,  became  themselves 
inimitable  characters. 

There  is  no  human  invention  so  aptly  calculated  for  the 
forming  a  free-born  people  as  that  of  a  theatre.  Tully 
reports,  that  the  celebrated  player  of  whom  I  am  speaking, 
used  frequently  to  say,  "  The  perfection  of  an  actor  is  only 
to  become  what  he  is  doing."  Young  men,  who  are  too  30 
unattentive  to  receive  lectures,  are  irresistibly  taken  with 
performances.  Hence  it  is,  that  I  extremely  lament  the 
little  relish  the  gentry  of  this  nation  have,  at  present,  for 
the  just  and  noble  representations  in  some  of  our  tragedies. 
The  operas,  which  are  of  late  introduced,  can  leave  no 
trace  behind  them  that  can  be  of  service  beyond  the  present 


moment.  To  sing  and  to  dance,  are  accomplishments  very 
few  have  any  thoughts  of  practising  ;  but  to  speak  justly, 
and  move  gracefully,  is  what  every  man  thinks  he  does 
perform,  or  wishes  he  did. 

I  have  hardly  a  notion,  that  any  performer  of  antiquity 
could  surpass  the  action  of  Mr.  Betterton  in  any  -of  the 
occasions  in  which  he  has  appeared  on  our  stage.  The 
wonderful  agony  which  he  appeared  in,  when  he  examined 
the  circumstance  of  the  handkerchief  in  Othello  ;  the  mix- 

10  ture  of  love  that  intruded  upon  his  mind,  upon  the  innocent 
answers  Desdemona  makes,  betrayed  in  his  gesture  such  a 
variety  and  vicissitude  of  passions,  as  would  admonish  a 
man.  to  be  afraid  of  his  own  heart ;  and  perfectly  convince 
him,  that  it  is  to"  stab  it,  to  admit  that  worst  of  daggers, 
jealousy.  Whoever  reads  in  his  closet  this  admirable  scene, 
will  find  that  he  cannot,  except  he  has  as  warm  an  imagina 
tion  as  Shakespeare  himself,  find  any  but  dry,  incoherent, 
and  broken  sentences  :  'but  a  reader  that  has  seen  Betterton 
act  it,  observes,  there  could  not  be  a  word  added  ;  that 

20  longer  speeches  had  been .  unnatural,  nay,  impossible,  in 
Othello's  circumstances.  The  charming  passage  in  the  same 
tragedy,  where  he  tells  the  manner  of  winning  the  affection 
.  of  his  mistress,  was  urged  with  so  moving  and  graceful  an 
energy,  that,  while  I  walked  in  the  cloisters,  I  thought  of 
him  with  the  same  concern  as  if  I  waited  for  the  remains 
of  a  person  who  had  in  real  life  done  all  that  I  had  seen 
him  represent.  The  gloom  of  the  place,  and  faint  lights 
before  the  ceremony  appeared,  contributed  to  the  melancholy 
disposition  I  was. in;  and  I  began  to  be  extremely  afflicted, 

30  that  Brutus  and  Cassius  had  any  difference  ;  that  Hotspur's 
gallantry  was  so  unfortunate  ;  and  that  the  mirth  and  good 
humour  of  Falstaff  could  not  exempt  him  from  the  grave. 
Nay,  this  occasion,  in  me  who  look  upon  the  distinctions 
amongst  men  to  be  merely  scenical,  raised  reflections  upon 
the  emptiness  of  all  human  perfection  and  greatness  in 
general  ;  and  I  could  not  but  regret,  that  the  sacred  heads 


which  lie  buried  in  the  neighbourhood  of  this  little  portion 
of  earth,  in  which  my  poor  old  friend  is  deposited,  are 
returned  to  dust  as  well  as  he,  and  that  there  is  no  differ 
ence  in  the  grave  between  the  imaginary  and  the  real 
monarch.  This  made  me  say  of  human  life  itself  with 

To-morrow,  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 

Creeps  in  a  stealing  pace  from  day  to  day 

To  the  last  moment  of  recorded  time  ! 

And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools  10 

To  their  eternal  night !   Out,  out,  short  candle, 

Life's  but  a  walking  shadow,  a  poor  player 

That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage, 

And  then  is  heard  no  more. 

The  mention  I  have  here  made  of  Mr.  Betterton,  for 
whom  I  had,  as  long  as  I  have  known  any  thing,  a  very 
great  esteem  and  gratitude  for  the  pleasure  he  gave  me,  • 
can  do  him  no  good  ;  but  it  may  possibly  be  of  service  to 
the  unhappy  woman  he  has  left  behind  him,  to  have  it 
known,  that  this  great  tragedian  was  never  in  a  scene  half  20 
so  moving,  as  the  circumstances  of  his  affairs  created  at 
his  departure.  His  wife,  after  a  cohabitation  of  forty  years 
in  the  strictest  amity,  has  long  pined  away  with  a  sense 
of  his  decay,  as  well  in  his  person  as  his  little  fortune  ; 
and,  in  proportion  to  that,  she  has  herself  decayed  both  in 
her  health  and  reason.  Her  husband's  death,  added  to  her 
age  and  infirmities,  would  certainly  have  determined  her  life, 
but  that  the  greatness  of  her  distress  has  been  her  relief, 
by  a  present  deprivation  of  her  senses.  This  absence  of 
reason  is  her  best  defence  against  age,  sorrow,  poverty,  30 
and  sickness.  I  dwell  upon'  this  account  so  distinctly,  in 
obedience  to  a  certain  great  spirit  who  hides  her  name, 
and  has  by  letter  applied  to  me  to  recommend  to  her  some 
object  of  compassion,  from  whom  she  may  be  concealed. 

This,   I   think,    is   a   proper  occasion   for   exerting   such 
heroic  generosity  ;   and  as  there  is  an  ingenuous  shame  in 


those  who  have  known  better  fortune,  to  be  reduced  to 
receive  obligations,  as  well  as  a  becoming  pain  in  the  truly 
generous  to  receive  thanks  ;  in  this  case  both  those  delicacies 
are  preserved  ;  for  the  person  obliged  is  as  incapable  of 
knowing  her  benefactress,  as  her  benefactress  is  unwilling 
to  be  known  by  her. 

No.  178.]  May  30,  1710. 

Shire-Lane,  May  29. 

WHEN  we  look  into  the  delightful  history  of  the  most 
ingenious  Don  Quixote  of  the  Mancha,  and  consider  the 

10  exercises  and  manner  of  life  of  that  renowned  gentleman,  we 
cannot  but  admire  the  exquisite  genius  and  discerning  spirit 
of  Michael  Cervantes  ;  who  has  not  only  painted  his  ad 
venturer  with  great  mastery  in  the  conspicuous  parts  of  his 
story,  which  relate  to  love  and  honour  ;  but  also  intimated 
in  his  ordinary  life,  in  his  economy  and  furniture,  the  in 
fallible  symptoms  he  gave  of  his  growing  frenzy,  before  he 
declared  himself  a  Knight  Errant.  His  hall  was  furnished 
with  old  lances,  halberds,  and  morions  ;  his  food,  lentils  ; 
his  dress,  amorous.  He  slept  moderately,  rose  early,  and 

20  spent  his  time  in  hunting.  When  by  watchfulness  and 
exercise  he  was  thus  qualified  for  the  hardships  of  his 
intended  peregrinations,  he  had  nothing  more  to  do  but  to 
fall  hard  to  study  ;  and  before  he  should  apply  himself  to 
the  practical  part,  get  into  the  methods  of  making  love  and 
war  by  reading  books  of  knighthood.  As  for  raising  tender 
passions  in  him,  Cervantes  reports  that  he  was  wonderfully 
delighted  with  a  smooth  intricate  sentence  ;  and  when  they 
listened  at  his  study-door,  they  could  frequently  hear  him 
read  aloud,  "  The  reason  of  the  unreasonableness,  which 

30  against  my  reason  is  wrought,  doth  so  weaken  my  reason,  as 


with  all  reason  I  do  justly  complain  of  your  beauty."  Again, 
he  would  pause  until  he  came  to  another  charming  sentence, 
and,  with  the  most  pleasing  accent  imaginable,  be  loud  at  a 
new  paragraph :  "  The  high  heavens,  which  with  your 
divinity,  do  fortify  you  divinely  with  the  stars,  make  you 
deserveress  of  the  deserts  that  your  greatness  deserves." 
With  these  and  other  such  passages,  says  my  author,  the 
poor  gentleman  grew  distracted,  and  was  breaking  his  brains 
day  and  night  to  understand  and  unravel  their  sense. 

As  much  as  the  case  of  this  distempered  knight  is  re-  10 
ceived  by  all  the  readers  of  his  history  as  the  most  incurable 
and  ridiculous  of  all  frenzies  ;  it  is  very  certain,  we  have 
crowds  among  us  far  gone  in  as  visible  a  madness  as  his, 
though  they  are  not  observed  to  be  in  that  condition.  As 
great  and  useful  discoveries  are  sometimes  made  by  acci 
dental  and  small  beginnings,  I  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
most  epidemic  ill  of  this  sort,  by  falling  into  a  coffee-house, 
where  I  saw  my  friend  the  upholsterer,  whose  crack  towards 
politics  I  have  heretofore  mentioned.  This  touch  in  the 
brain  of  the  British  subject,  is  as  certainly  owing  to  the  20 
reading  newspapers,  as  that  of  the  Spanish  worthy  above- 
mentioned  to  the  reading  works  of  chivalry.  My  contem 
poraries,  the  novelists,  have,  for  the  better  spinning  out 
paragraphs,  and  working  down  to  the  end  of  their  columns, 
a  most  happy  art  in  saying  and  unsaying,  giving  hints  of 
intelligence,  and  interpretations  of  indifferent  actions,  to  the 
great  disturbance  of  the  brains  of  ordinary  readers.  This  way 
of  going  on  in  the  words,  and  making  no  progress  in  the  sense, 
is  more  particularly  the  excellency  of  my  most  ingenious  and 
renowned  fellow-labourer,  the  Post-man  :  and  it  is  to  this  30 
talent  in  him  that  I  impute  the  loss  of  my  upholsterer's 
intellects.  That  unfortunate  tradesman  has,  for  years  past, 
been  the  chief  orator  in  ragged  assemblies,  and  the  reader  in 
alley  coffee-houses.  He  was  yesterday  surrounded  by  an 
audience  of  that  sort,  among  whom  I  sat  unobserved,  through 
the  favour  of  a  cloud  of  tobacco,  and  saw  him  with  the 


Post-man  in  his  hand,  and  all  the  other  papers  safe  under  his 
elbow.  He  was  intermixing  remarks,  and  reading  the  Paris 
article  of  May  the  thirtieth,  which  says,  "That  it  is  given 
out  that  an  express  arrived  this  day  with  advice,  that  the 
armies  were  so  near  in  the  plain  of  Lens,  that  they  cannon 
aded  each  other."  "Ay,  ay,  here  we  shall  have  sport." 
"  And  that  it  was  highly  probable  the  next  express  would 
bring  us  an  account  of  an  engagement.''  "  They  are  welcome 
as  soon  as  they  please."  "  Though  some  others  say  that  the 

10  same  will  be  put  off  until  the  second  or  third  of  June,  because 
the  Marshall  Viilars  expects  some  further  reinforcements 
from  Germany,  and  other  parts,  before  that  time."  "  What 
does  he  put  it  off  for  ?  Does  he  think  our  horse  is  not 
marching  up  at  the  same  time  ?  But  let  us  see  what  he  says 
further."  "They  hope  that  Monsieur  Albergotti,  being 
encouraged  by  the  presence  of  so  great  an  army,  will  make 
an  extraordinary  defence."  "  Why  then,  I  find  Albergotti 
is  one  of  those  that  love  to  have  a  great  many  on  their  side. 
.Nay,  I  say  that  for  this  paper,  he  makes  the  most  natural 

20  inferences  of  any  of  them  all."  "  The  elector  of  Bavaria,  being 
uneasy  to  be  without  any  command,  has  desired  leave  to 
come  to  court,  to  communicate  a.  certain  project  to  his 

majesty. Whatever  it  be,  it  is  said,  that  prince  is  suddenly 

expected  ;  and  then  we  shall  have  a  more  certain  account  of 
his  project,  if  this  report  has  any  foundation."  "Nay,  this 
paper  never  imposes  upon  us  ;  he  goes  upon  sure  grounds  ; 
for  he  will  not  be  positive  the  elector  has  a  project,  or  that 
he  will  come,  or  if  he  does  come  at  all ;  for  he  doubts,  you 
see,  whether  the  report  has  any  foundation." 

30  What  makes  this  the  more  lamentable  is,  that  this  way  of 
writing  falls  in  with  the  imaginations  of  the  cooler  and  duller 
part  of  her  majesty's  subjects.  The  being  kept  up  with  one 
line  contradicting  another;  and  the  whole,  after  many 
sentences  of  conjecture,  vanishing  in  a  doubt  whether  there 
is  any  thing  at  all  in  what  the  person  has  been  reading,  puts 
an  ordinary  head  into  a  vertigo,  which  his  natural  dulness 


would  have  secured  him  from.  Next  to  the  labours  of  the 
Post-man,  the  upholsterer  took  from  under  his  elbow  honest 
Ichabod  Dawks's  Letter,  and  there,  among  other  speculations, 
the  historian  takes  upon  him  to  say,  "  That  it  is  discoursed 
that  there  will  be  a  battle  in  Flanders  before  the  armies 
separate,  and  many  will  have  it  to  be  to-morrow,  the  great 
battle  of  Ramillies  being  fought  on  a  Whitsunday."  A 
gentleman,  who  was  a  wag  in  this  company,  laughed  at  the 
expression,  and  said,  "  By  Mr.  Dawks's  favour,  I  warrant 
you,  if  we  meet  them  on  Whitsunday  or  Monday  we  shall  10 
not  stand  upon  the  day  with  them,  whether  it  be  before  or 
after  the  holidays."  An  admirer  of  this  gentleman  stood  up, 
and  told  a  neighbour  at  a  distant  table  the  conceit ;  at  which 
indeed  we  were  all  very  merry.  These  reflections,  in  the 
writers  of  the  transactions  of  the  times,  seize  the  noddles  of 
such  as  were  not  born  to  have  thoughts  of  their  own,  and 
consequently  lay  a  weight  upon  every  thing  which  they  read 
in  print.  But  Mr.  Dawks  concluded  his  paper  with  a 
courteous  sentence,  which  was  very  well  taken  and  applauded 
by  the  whole  company.  "  We  wish,"  says  he,  "  all  our  20 
customers  a  merry  Whitsuntide  and  many  of  them."  Honest 
Ichabod  is  as  extraordinary  a  man  as  any  of  our  fraternity, 
and  as  particular.  His  style  is  a  dialect  between  the  famili 
arity  of  talking  and  writing,  and  his  letter  such  as  you 
cannot  distinguish  whether  print  or  manuscript,  which  gives 
us  a  refreshment  of  the  idea  from  what  has  been  told  us  from 
the  press  by  others.  This  wishing  a  good  Tide  had  its  effect 
upon  us,  and  he  was  commended  for  his  salutation,  as 
showing  as  well  the  capacity  of  a  bell-man  as  a  historian. 
My  distempered  old  acquaintance  read,  in  the  next  place.  30 
the  account  of  the  affairs  abroad  in  the  Courant :  but  the 
matter  was  told  so  distinctly,  that  these  wanderers  thought 
there  -was  no  news  in  it ;  this  paper  differing  from  the  rest, 
as  a  history  from  a  romance.  The  tautology,  the  contra 
diction,  the  doubts,  and  wants  of  confirmations,  are  what 
keep  up  imaginary  entertainments  in  empty  heads  and 


produce  neglect  of  their  own  affairs,  poverty,  and  bankruptcy, 
in  many  of  the  shop -statesmen  ;  but  turn  the  imaginations 
of  those  of  a  little  higher  orb  into  deliriums  of  dissatis 
faction,  which  is  seen  in  a  continual  fret  upon  all  that 
touches  their  brains,  but  more  particularly  upon  any  advan 
tage  obtained  by  their  country,  where  they  are  considered 
as  lunatics,  and  therefore  tolerated  in  their  ravings. 

What  I  am  now  warning  the  people  of  is,  that  the  news 
papers  of  this  island  are  as   pernicious  to  weak  heads  in 
10  England,  as  ever  books  of  chivalry  to  Spain  ;  and  therefore 
shall   do  all  that   in   me   lies,   with   the   utmost  care  and 
vigilance  imaginable,  to  prevent  these  growing  evils. 


No.  242.]  October  26,  1710. 

Quis  iniquse 

Tarn  patiens  urbis,  tarn  ferrens  ut  teneat  se? 
Juv.  Sat.  i.  30. 

To  view  so  lewd  a  town,  and  to  refrain, 

"What  hoops  of  iron  could  my  spleen  contain? — Dryden. 

IT  was  with  very  great  displeasure  I  heard  this  day  a  man 
say  of  a  companion  of  his,  with  an  air  of  approbation,  "  You 
know  Tom  never  fails  of  saying  a  spiteful  thing.  He  has 

2Q  a  great  deal  of  wit,  but  satire  is  his  particular  talent.  Did 
you  mind  how  he  put  the  young  fellow  out  of  countenance 
that  pretended  to  talk  to  him  ? "  Such  impertinent 
applauses,  which  one  meets  with  every  day,  put  me  upon 

.  considering,  what  true  raillery  and  satire  were  in  themselves ; 
and  this,  methought,  occurred  to  me  from  reflection  upon 
the  great  and  excellent  persons  that  were  admired  for  talents 
this  way.  When  I  had  run  over  several  such  in  my  thoughts, 
I  concluded,  however  unaccountable  the  assertion  might 
appear  at  first  sight,  that  good-nature  was  an  essential 

ON  SATIRE.  65 

quality  in  a  satirist,  and  that  all  the  sentiments  which  are 
beautiful  in  this  way  of  writing,  must  proceed  from  that 
quality  in  the  author.  Good  nature  produces  a  disdain  of  ^/ 
all  baseness,  vice,  and  folly  :  which  prompts  them  to  express 
themselves  with  smartness  against  the  errors  of  men,  with 
out  bitterness  towards  their  persons.  This  quality  keeps 
the  mind  in  equanimity,  and  never  lets  an  offence  unseason 
ably  throw  a  man  out  of  his  character.  When  Virgil  said, 
"  he  that  did  not  hate  Bavius  might  love  Maevius/'  he  was 
in  perfect  good  humour  ;  and  was  not  so  much  moved  at  10 
their  absurdities,  as  passionately  to  call  them  sots,  or  block 
heads  in  a  direct  invective,  but  laughed  at  them  with  a 
delicacy  of  scorn,  without  any  mixture  of  anger. 

The  best  good  man  with  the  worst-natur'd  muse, 

was  the  character  among  us  of  a  gentleman  as  famous  for 
his  humanity  as  his  wit. 

The  ordinary  subjects  for  satire  are  such  as  incite  the 
greatest  indignation  in  the  best  tempers,  and  consequently 
men  of  such  a  make  are  the  best  qualified  for  speaking  of 
the  offences  in  human  life.  These  men  can  behold  vice  and  20 
folly,  when  they  injure  persons  to  whom  they  are  wholly 
unacquainted,  with  the  same  severity  as  others  resent  the 
ills  they  do  to  themselves.  A  good-natured  man  cannot 
see  an  overbearing  fellow  put  a  bashful  man  of  merit  out 
of  countenance,  or  out-strip  him  in  the  pursuit  of  any 
advantage,  but  he  is  on  fire  to  succour  the  oppressed,  to 
produce  the  merit  of  the  one,  and  confront  the  impudence 
of  the  other. 

The  men  of  the  greatest  character  in  this  kind  were 
Horace  and  Juvenal.  There  is  not,  that  I  remember,  one  ill-  30 
natured  expression  in  all  their  writings,  nor  one  sentence 
of  severity,  which  does  not  apparently  proceed  from  the 
contrary  disposition.  Whoever  reads  them,  will,  I  believe, 
be  of  this  mind  ;  and  if  they  were  read  with  this  view,  it 
might  possibly  persuade  our  young  fellows,  that  they  may 


be  very  witty  men  without  speaking  ill  of  any  but  those 
who  deserve  it.  But,  in  the  perusal  of  these  writers,  it  may 
not  be  unnecessary  to  consider,  that  they  lived  in  very 
different  times.  Horace  was  intimate  with  a  prince  of 
the  greatest  goodness  and  humanity  imaginable,  and  his 
court  was  formed  after  his  example  :  therefore  the  faults 
that  poet  falls  upon  were  little  inconsistencies  in  behaviour, 
false  pretences  to  politeness,  or  impertinent  affectations  of 
what  men  were  not  fit  for.  Vices  of  a  coarser  sort  could 

10  not  come  under  his  consideration,  or  enter  the  palace  of 
Augustus.  Juvenal,  on  the  other  hand,  lived  under 
Domitian,  in  whose  reign  every  thing  that  was  great  and 
noble  was  banished  the  habitations  of  the  men  in  power. 
Therefore  he  attacks  vice  as  it  passes  by  in  triumph,  not 
as  it  breaks  into  conversation.  The  fall  of  empire,  contempt 
of  glory,  and  a  general  degeneracy  of  manners,  are  before 
his  eyes  in  all  his  writings.  In  the  days  of  Augustus,  to 
have  talked  like  Juvenal  had  been  madness  ;  or  in  those 
of  Domitian,  like  Horace.  Morality  and  virtue  are  every 

20  where  recommended  in  Horace,  as  became  a  man  in  a  polite 
court,  from  the  beauty,  the  propriety,  the  convenience  of 
pursuing  them.  Vice  and  corruption  are  attacked  by 
Juvenal  in  a  style  which  denotes,  he  fears  he  shall  not  be 
heard  without  he  calls  to  them  in  their  own  language,  with 
a  barefaced  mention  of  the  villanies  and  obscenities  of  his 

This  accidental  talk  of  these  two  great  men  carries  me 
from  my  design,  which  was  to  tell  some  coxcombs  that  run 
about  this  town  with  the  name  of  smart  satirical  fellows, 

30  that  they  are  by  no  means  qualified  for  the  characters  they 
pretend  to,  of  being  severe  upon  other  men  ;  for  they  want 
good -nature.  There  is  no  foundation  in  them  for  arriving 
at  what  they  aim  at ;  and  they  may  as  well  pretend  to 
natter  as  rally  agreeably,  without  being  good-natured. 

There  is  a  certain  impartiality  necessary  to  make  what  a 
man  says  bear  any  weight  with  those  he  speaks  to.  This 

ON  SATIRE.  67 

quality,  with  respect  to  men's  errors  and  vices,  is  never 
seen  but  in  good-natured  men.  They  have  ever  such  a 
frankness  of  mind,  and  benevolence  to  all  men,  that  they 
cannot  receive  impressions  of  unkindness  without  mature 
deliberation  ;  and  writing  or  speaking  ill  of  a  man  upon 
personal  considerations,  is  so  irreparable  and  mean  an  injury, 
that  no  one  possessed  of  this  quality  is  capable  of  doing  it : 
but  in  all  ages  there  have  been  interpreters  to  authors  when 
living,  of  the  same  genius  with  the  commentators  into  whose 
hands  they  fall  when  dead.  I  dare  say  it  is  impossible  for  10 
any  man  of  more  wit  than  one  of  these  to  take  any  of  the 
four-and-twenty  letters,  and  form  out  of  them  a  name  to 
describe  the  character  of  a  vicious  man  with  greater  life, 
but  one  of  these  would  immediately  cry,  "  Mr.  Such-a-one  is 
meant  in  that  place."  But  the  truth  of  it  is,  satirists 
describe  the  age,  and  backbiters  assign  their  descriptions  to 
private  men. 

In  all  terms  of  reproof,  when  the  sentence  appears  to  arise 
from  personal  hatred  or  passion,  it  is  not  then  made  the 
cause  of  mankind,  but  a  misunderstanding  between  two  20 
persons.  For  this  reason  the  representations  of  a  good- 
natured  man  bear  a  pleasantry  in  them,  which  shows  there 
is  no  malignity  at  heart,  and  by  consequence  they  are 
attended  to  by  his  hearers  or  readers,  because  they  are 
unprejudiced.  This  deference  is  only  what  is  due  to  him ; 
for  no  man  thoroughly  nettled  can  say  a  thing  general 
enough,  to  pass  off  with  the  air  of  an  opinion  declared,  and 
not  a  passion  gratified.  I  remember  a  humorous  fellow  at 
Oxford,  when  he  heard  any  one  had  spoken  ill  of  him,  used 
to  say,  "  I  will  not  take  my  revenge  of  him  until  I  have  30 
forgiven  him."  What  he  meant  by  this  was,  that  he  would 
not  enter  upon  this  subject  until  it  was  grown  as  indifferent 
to  him  as  any  other  :  and  I  have  by  this  rule,  seen  him  more 
than  once  triumph  over  his  adversary  with  an  inimitable 
spirit  and  humour  ;  for  he  came  to  the  assault  against  a  man 
full  of  sore  places  and  he  himself  invulnerable. 


There  is  no  possibility  of  succeeding  in  a  satirical  way  of 
writing  or  speaking,  except  a  man  throws  himself  quite  out 
of  the  question.  It  is  great  vanity  to  think  any  one  will 
attend  to  a  thing,  because  it  is  your  quarrel.  You  must 
make  your  satire  the  concern  of  society  in  general  if  you 
would  have  it  regarded.  When  it  is  so,  the  good-nature 
of  a  man  of  wit  will  prompt  him  to  many  brisk  and  dis 
dainful  sentiments  and  replies,  to  which  all  the  malice  in 
the  world  will  not  be  able  to  repartee, 


No.  251.]  November  15,  1710. 

10  Quisnam  igitur  liber  ?    Sapiens,  sibique  imperiosus  ; 

Quern  neque  pauperies,  neque  mors,  nee  vincula  terrent : 

Responsare  cupidinibus,  contemnere  honores 

Fortis,  et  in  seipso  totus  teres  atque  rotundus, 

Extern!  ne  quid  valeafc  per  leve  morari ; 

In  quern  manca  ruit  semper  fortuna. — Hor.  Sett.  ii.  7.  83. 

Who  then  is  free?    The  wise,  who  well  maintains 
An  empire  o'er  himself ;  whom  neither  chains 
Nor  want,  nor  death,  with  slavish  fear  inspire, 
Who  boldly  answers  to  his  warm  desire, 
20  Who  can  ambition's  vainest  gifts  despise, 

Firm  in  himself  who  on  himself  relies, 
Polish'd  and  round  who  runs  his  proper  course, 
And  breaks  misfortune  with  superior  force.— Francis. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  November  15. 

IT  is  necessary  to  an  easy  and  happy  life,  to  possess  our 
minds  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  always  well  satisfied  with 
our  own  reflections.  The  way  to  this  state  is  to  measure  our 
actions  by  our  own  opinion,  and  not  by  that  of  the  rest  of 
the  world.  The  sense  of  other  men  ought  to  prevail  over  us 
30  in  things  of  less  consideration,  but  not  in  concerns  where 
truth  and  honour  are  engaged.  When  we  look  into  the 


bottom  of  things,  what  at  first  appears  a  paradox  is  a  plain 
truth  ;  and  those  professions,  which,  for  want  of  being  duly 
weighed,  seem  to  proceed  from  a  sort  of  romantic  philosophy, 
and  ignorance  of  the  world,  after  a  little  reflection,  are  so 
reasonable,  that  it  is  direct  madness  to  walk  by  any  other 
rules.  Thus  to  contradict  our  desires,  and  to  conquer  the 
impulses  of  our  ambition,  if  they  do  not  fall  in  with  what  we 
in  our  inward  sentiments  approve,  is  so  much  our  interest, 
and  so  absolutely  necessary  to  our  real  happiness,  that  to 
contemn  all  the  wealth  and  power  in  the  world,  where  they  10 
stand  in  competition  with  a  man's  honour,  is  rather  good 
sense  than  greatness  of  mind. 

Did  we  consider  that  the  mind  of  a  man  is  the  man  him 
self,  we  should  think  it  the  most  unnatural  sort  of  self- 
murder  to  sacrifice  the  sentiment  of  the  soul  to  gratify  the 
appetites  of  the  body.  Bless  us  !  is  it  possible,  that  when 
the  necessities  of  life  are  supplied,  a  man  would  flatter  to  be 
rich,  or  circumvent  to  be  powerful !  When  we  meet  a  poor 
wretch,  urged  with  hunger  and  cold,  asking  an  alms,  we  are 
apt  to  think  this  a  state  we  could  rather  starve  than  submit  20 
to  :  but  yet  how  much  more  despicable  is  his  condition,  who  is 
above  necessity,  and  yet  shall  resign  his  reason  and  his 
integrity  to  purchase  superfluities  !  Both  these  are  abject 
and  common  beggars  ;  but  sure  it  is  less  despicable  to  beg 
a  supply  to  a  man's  hunger  than  his  vanity.  But  custom 
and  general  prepossessions  have  so  far  prevailed  over  an  un 
thinking  world,  that  those  necessitous  creatures,  who  cannot 
relish  life  without  applause,  attendance,  and  equipage,  are 
so  far  from  making  a  contemptible  figure,  that  distressed 
virtue  is  less  esteemed  than  successful  vice.  But  if  a  man's  30 
appeal,  in  cases  that  regard  his  honour,  were  made  to  his 
own  soul,  there  would  be  a  basis  and  standing  rule  for  our 
conduct,  and  we  should  always  endeavour  rather  to  be,  than 
appear  honourable.  Mr.  Collier  in  his  "  Essay  on  Fortitude," 
has  treated  this  subject  with  great  wit  and  magnanimity. 
"  What,"  says  he,  "  can  be  more  honourable  than  to  have 


courage  enough  to  execute  the  commands  of  reason  and  con 
science  ;  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  our  nature,  and  the 
station  assigned  us  ?  to  be  proof  against  poverty,  pain,  and 
death  itself  ?  I  mean  so  far  as  not  to  do  any  thing  that  is 
scandalous  or  sinful  to  avoid  them.  To  stand  adversity 
under  all  shapes  with  decency  and  resolution  !  To  do  this,  is 
to  be  great  above  title  and  fortune.  This  argues  the  soul  of 
a  heavenly  extraction,  and  is  worthy  the  offspring  of  the 

10  What  a  generous  ambition  has  this  man  pointed  to  us? 
When  men  have  settled  in  themselves  a  conviction,  by  such 
noble  precepts,  that  there  is  nothing  honourable  which  is  not 
accompanied  with  innocence  ;  nothing  mean  but  what  has 
guilt  in  it :  I  say,  when  they  have  attained  thus  much, 
though  poverty,  pain,  and  death,  may  still  retain  their 
terrors,  yet  riches,  pleasures,  and  honours,  will  easily  lose 
their  charms,  if  they  stand  between  us  and  our  integrity. 

What  is  here  said  with  allusion  to  fortune  and  fame,  may 
as  justly  be  applied  to  wit  and  beauty ;  for  these  latter  are 

20  as  adventitious  as  the  other,  and  as  little  concern  the  essence 
of  the  soul.  They  are  all  laudable  in  the  man  who  possesses 
them,  only  for  the  just  application  of  them.  A  bright  imag 
ination,  while  it  is  subservient  to  an  honest  and  noble  soul, 
is  a  faculty  which  makes  a  man  justly  admired  by  mankind, 
and  furnishes  him  with  reflections  upon  his  own  actions, 
which  add  delicates  to  the  feast  of  a  good  conscience  :  but 
when  wit  descends  to  wait  upon  sensual  pleasures  or  promote 
the  base  purposes  of  ambition,  it  is  then  to  be  contemned  in 
proportion  to  its  excellence.  If  a  man  will  not  resolve  to 

30  place  the  foundation  of  his  happiness  in  his  own  mind,  life  is 
a  bewildered  and  unhappy  state,  incapable  of  rest  or  tran 
quillity.  For  to  such  a  one,  the  general  applause  of  valour, 
wit,  nay  of  honesty  itself,  can  give  him  but  a  very  feeble 
comfort ;  since  it  is  capable  of  being  interrupted  by  any  one 
who  wants  either  understanding  or  good-nature  to  see  or 
acknowledge  such  excellencies.  This  rule  is  so  necessary, 


that  one  may  very  safely  say,  it  is  impossible  to  know  any 
true  relish  of  our  being  without  it.  Look  about  you  in 
common  life  among  the  ordinary  race  of  mankind,  and  you 
will  find  merit  in  every  kind  is  allowed  only  to  those  who 
are  in  particular  districts  or  sets  of  company  ;  but,  since  men 
can  have  little  pleasure  in  these  faculties  which  denominate 
them  persons  of  distinction,  let  them  give  up  such  an  empty 
pursuit,  and  think  nothing  essential  to  happiness  but  what  is 
in  their  own  power  ;  the  capacity  of  reflecting  with  pleasure 
on  their  own  actions,  however  they  are  interpreted.  10 

It  is  so  evident  a  truth,  that  it  is  only  in  our  own  bosoms 
we  are  to  search  for  any  thing  to  make  us  happy,  that  it  is, 
methinks,  a  disgrace  to  our  nature  to  talk  of  taking  our 
measures  from  thence  only,  as  a  matter  of  fortitude.  When 
all  is  well  there,  the  vicissitudes  and  distinctions  of  life  are 
the  mere  scenes  of  a  drama  ;  and  he  will  never  act  his  part 
well,  who  has  his  thoughts  more  fixed  upon  the  applause  of 
the  audience  than  the  design  of  his  part. 

The  life  of  a  man  who  acts  with  a  steady  integrity,  with 
out  valuing  the  interpretation  of  his  actions,  has  but  one  20 
uniform  regular  path  to  move  in,  where  he  cannot  meet 
opposition,  or  fear  ambuscade.  On  the  other  side,  the  least 
deviation  from  the  rules  of  honour  introduces  a  train  of 
numberless  evils,  and  involves  him  in  inexplicable  mazes. 
He  that  has  entered  into  guilt  has  bid  adieu  to  rest ;  and 
every  criminal  has  his  share  of  the  misery  expressed  so 
emphatically  in  the  tragedian, 

Macbeth  shall  sleep  no  more  ! 

It  was  with  detestation  of  any  other  grandeur  but  the 
calm  command  of  his  own  passions,  that  the  excellent  Mr.  30 
Cowley  cries  out  with  so  much  justice  : 

If  e'er  ambition  did  my  fancy  cheat 
With  any  thought  so  mean  as  to  be  great, 
Continue,  heaven,  still  from  me  to  remove 
The  humble  blessings  of  that  life  I  love  i 



No.  202.]  July  25,  1710. 

Hie  est; 
Est  Ulubris,  animus  si  te  non  deficit  tequus. 

Hor.  Ep.  i.  xi    ver.  ult. 

True  happiness  is  to  no  spot  confin'd 
If  you  preserve  a  firm  and  equal  mind, 
'Tis  here,   'tis  there,  and  everywhere. 

From  my  own  Apartment,  July  24. 

THIS  afternoon  I  went  to  visit  a  gentleman  of  my  acquaint 
ance  at  Mile-End  ;  and  passing  through  Stepney  church 
yard,  I  could  not  forbear  entertaining  myself  with  the 
10  inscriptions  on  the  tombs  and  graves.  Among  others,  I 
observed  one  with  this  notable  memorial  : 

"Here  lies  the  body  of  T.  B." 

This  fantastical  desire  of  being  remembered  only  by  the 
two  first  letters  of  a  name,  led  me  into  the  contemplation 
of  the  vanity  and  imperfect  attainments  of  ambition  in 
general.  When  I  run  back  in  my  imagination  all  the  men 
whom  I  have  ever  known  and  conversed  with  in  my  whole 
life,  there  are  but  very  few  who  have  not  used  their 
faculties  in  the  pursuit  of  what  it  is  impossible  to  acquire ; 

20  or  left  the  possession  of  what  they  might  have  been,  at 
their  setting  out,  masters,  to  search  for  it  where  it  was  out 
of  their  reach.  In  this  thought  it  was  not  possible  to  forget 
the  instance  of  Pyrrhus,  who  proposing  to  himself  in  dis 
course  with  a  philosopher,  one,  and  another,  and  another 
conquest,  was  asked,  what  he  would  do  after  all  that? 
"Then,"  says  the  king,  "we  will  make  merry."  He  was 
well  answered,  "What  hinders  your  doing  that  in  the 
condition  you  are  already  ?"  The  restless  desire  of  exerting 
themselves  above  the  common  level  of  mankind  is  not  to 

30  be  resisted  in  some  tempers  ;  and  minds  of  this  make  may 


be  observed  in  every  condition  of  life.  Where  such  men 
do  not  make  to  themselves,  or  meet  with  employment,  the 
soil  of  their  constitution  runs  into  tares  and  weeds.  An 
old  friend  of  mine,  who  lost  a  major's  post  forty  years  ago, 
and  quitted,  has  ever  since  studied  maps,  encampments, 
retreats,  and  countermarches ;  with  no  other  design  but  to 
feed  his  spleen  and  ill-humour,  and  furnish  himself  with 
matter  for  arguing  against  all  the  successful  actions  of 
others.  He  that,  at  his  first  setting  out  in  the  world,  was 
the  gayest  man  in  our  regiment ;  ventured  his  life  with  10 
alacrity,  and  enjoyed  it  with  satisfaction  ;  encouraged  men 
below  him,  and  was  courted  by  men  above  him,  has  been 
ever  since  the  most  froward  creature  breathing.  His  warm 
complexion  spends  itself  now  only  in  a  general  spirit  of 
contradiction  :  for  which  he  watches  all  occasions,  and  is  in 
his  conversation  still  upon  sentry,  treats  all  men  like  enemies, 
with  every  other  impertinence  of  a  speculative  warrior. 

He  that  observes  in  himself  this  natural  inquietude, 
should  take  all  imaginable  care  to  put  his  mind  in  some 
method  of  gratification ;  or  he  will  soon  find  himself  grow  20 
into  the  condition  of  this  disappointed  major.  Instead  of 
courting  proper  occasions  to  rise  above  others,  he  will  be 
ever  studious  of  pulling  others  down  to  him  :  it  being  the 
common  refuge  of  disappointed  ambition,  to  ease  themselves 
by  detraction.  It  would  be  no  great  argument  against 
ambition,  that  there  are  such  mortal  things  in  the  dis 
appointment  of  it ;  but  it  certainly  is  a  forcible  exception, 
that  there  can  be  no  solid  happiness  in  the  success  of  it. 
If  we  value  popular  praise,  it  is  in  the  power  of  the  meanest 
of  the  people  to  disturb  us  by  calumny.  If  the  fame  of  30 
being  happy,  we  cannot  look  into  a  village,  but  we  see 
crowds  in  actual  possession  of  what  we  seek  only  the 
appearance.  To  this  may  be  added,  that  there  is  I  know 
not  what  malignity  in  the  minds  of  ordinary  men,  to  oppose 
you  in  what  they  see  you  fond  of  ;  and  it  is  a  certain  ex 
ception  against  a  man's  receiving  applause,  that  he  visibly 


courts  it.  However,  this  is  not  only  the  passion  of  great 
and  undertaking  spirits ;  but  you  see  it  in  the  lives  of 
such  as,  one  would  believe,  were  far  enough  removed  from 
the  ways  of  ambition.  The  rural  esquires  of  this  nation 
even  eat  and  drink  out  of  vanity.  A  vain-glorious  fox- 
hunter  shall  entertain  half  a  county,  for  the  ostentation 
of  his  beef  and  beer,  without  the  least  affection  for  any 
of  the  crowd  about  him.  He  feeds  them,  because  he  thinks 
it  a  superiority  over  them  that  he  does  so  ;  and  they  devour 

10  him,  because  they  know  he  treats  them  out  of  insolence. 
This  indeed  is  ambition  in  grotesque  ;  but  may  figure  to 
us  the  condition  of  politer  men,  whose  only  pursuit  is 
glory.  When  the  superior  acts  out  of  a  principle  of  vanity, 
the  dependant  will  be  sure  to  allow  it  him  ;  because  he 
knows  it  destructive  of  the  very  applause  which  is  courted 
by  the  man  who  favours  him,  and  consequently  makes  him 
nearer  himself. 

But  as  every  man  living  has   more   or  less   of  this  in 
centive,  which   makes  men   impatient  of  an  inactive  con- 

20  dition,  and  urges  men  to  attempt  what  may  tend  to  their 
reputation,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  they  should  form  to 
themselves  an  ambition,  which  is  in  every  man's  power  to 
gratify.  This  ambition  would  be  independent,  and  would 
consist  only  in  acting  what,  to  a  man's  own  mind,  appears 
most  great  and  laudable.  It  is  a  pursuit  in  the  power  of 
every  man,  and  is  only  a  regular  prosecution  of  what  he 
himself  approves.  It  is  what  can  be  interrupted  by  no 
outward  accidents  ;  for  no  man  can  be  robbed  of  his  good 
intention.  One  of  our  society  of  the  Trumpet  therefore 

30  started  last  night  a  notion,  which  I  thought  had  reason 
in  it.  "It  is,  rnethinks,"  said  he,  "an  unreasonable  thing, 
that  heroic  virtue  should,  as  it  seems  to  be  at  present,  be 
confined  to  a  certain  order  of  men,  and  be  attainable  by 
none  but  those  whom  fortune  has  elevated  to  the  most 
conspicuous  stations.  I  would  have  every  thing  to  be 
esteemed  as  heroic,  which  is  great  and  uncommon  in  the 


circumstances  of  the  man  who  performs  it."  Thus  there 
would  be  no  virtue  in  human  life,  which  every  one  of  the 
species  would  not  have  a  pretence  to  arrive  at,  and  an 
ardency  to  exert.  Since  fortune  is  not  in  our  power,  let 
us  be  as  little  as  possible  in  hers.  Why  should  it  be 
necessary  that  a  man  should  be  rich,  to  be  generous  ?  If 
we  measured  by  the  quality  and  not  the  quantity  of 
things,  the  particulars  which  accompany  an  action  is  what 
should  denominate  it  mean  or  great.  The  highest  station 
of  human  life  is  to  be  attained  by  each  man  that  pretends  10 
to  it :  for  every  man  can  be  as  valiant,  as  generous,  as 
wise,  and  as  merciful,  as  the  faculties  and  opportunities 
which  he  has  from  heaven  and  fortune  will  permit.  He 
that  can  say  to  himself,  "I  do  as  much  good,  and  am  as 
virtuous  as  my  most  earnest  endeavours  will  allow  me," 
whatever  is  his  station  in  the  world,  is  to  see  himself 
possessed  of  the  highest  honour.  If  ambition  is  not  thus 
turned,  it  is  no  other  than  a  continual  succession  of  anxiety 
and  vexation.  But  when  it  has  this  cast,  it  invigorates 
the  mind ;  and  the  consciousness  of  its  own  worth  is  a  20 
reward,  which  is  not  in  the  power  of  envy,  reproach,  or 
detraction,  to  take  from  it.  Thus  the  seat  of  solid  honour 
is  in  a  man's  own  bosom ;  and  no  one  can  want  support 
who  is  in  possession  of  an  honest  conscience,  but  he  who 
would  suffer  the  reproaches  of  it  for  other  greatness. 


No.  208.]  August  8,  1710. 

Si  dixeris  aestuo,  sudat. — Juv,  Sat.  iii.  103. 

...     If  you  complain  of  heat 
They  rub  th'  unsweating  brow  and  swear  they  sweat. 

From  iny  own  Apartment,  August  7. 

AN  old  acquaintance,  who  met  me   this  morning,  seemed  30 
overjoyed  to  see  me,  and  told  me  I  looked  as  well  as  he  had 


known  me  do  these  forty  years  :  "  but,"  continued  he,  "  not 
quite  the  man  you  were,  when  we  visited  together  at  Lady 
Brightly's.  Oh  !  Isaac,  those  days  are  over.  Do  you  think 
there  are  any  such  fine  creatures  now  living,  as  we  then 
conversed  with?"  He  went  on  with  a  thousand  incoherent 
circumstances,  which,  in  his  imagination,  must  needs  please 
me  ;  but  they  had  quite  the  contrary  effect.  The  flattery 
with  which  he  began,  in  telling  me  how  well  I  wore,  was 
not  disagreeable ;  but  his  indiscreet  mention  of  a  set  of 

10  acquaintance  we  had  out-lived,  recalled  ten  thousand  things 
to  my  memory,  which  made  me  reflect  upon  my  present 
condition  with  regret.  Had  he  indeed  been  so  kind  as, 
after  a  long  absence,  to  felicitate  me  upon  an  indolent  and 
easy  old  age ;  and  mentioned  how  much  he  and  I  had  to 
thank  for,  who  at  our  time  of  day  could  walk  firmly,  eat 
heartily,  and  converse  cheerfully,  he  had  kept  up  my 
pleasure  in  myself.  But  of  all  mankind,  there  are  none  so 
shocking  as  these  injudicious  civil  people.  They  ordinarily 
begin  upon  something  that  they  know  must  be  a  satisfaction  ; 

20  but  then,  for  fear  of  the  imputation  of  flattery,  they  follow 
it  with  the  last  thing  in  the  world  of  which  you  would 
be  reminded.  It  is  this  that  perplexes  civil  persons.  The 
reason  that  there  is  such  a  general  outcry  among  us  against 
flatterers  is,  that  there  are  so  very  few  good  ones.  It  is  the 
nicest  art  in  this  life,  and  is  a  part  of  eloquence  which  does 
not  want  the  preparation  that  is  necessary  to  all  other  parts 
of  it,  that  your  audience  should  be  your  well-wishers  ;  for 
praise  from  an  enemy  is  the  most  pleasing  of  all  commenda 

30  It  is  generally  to  be  observed,  that  the  person  most 
agreeable  to  a  man  for  a  constancy  is  he  that  has  no  shining 
qualities,  but  is  a  certain  degree  above  great  imperfections  ; 
whom  he  can  live  with  as  his  inferior,  and  who  will  either 
overlook,  or  not  observe  his  little  defects.  Such  an  easy 
companion  as  this  either  now  and  then  throws  out  a  little 
flattery,  or  lets  a  man  silently  flatter  himself  in  his  superi- 


ority  to  him.  If  you  take  notice,  there  is  hardly  a  rich  man 
in  the  world,  who  has  not  such  a  led  friend  of  small 
consideration,  who  is  a  darling  for  his  insignificancy.  It  is 
a  great  ease  to  have  one  in  our  own  shape  a  species  below  us, 
and  who,  without  being  listed  in  our  service,  is  by  nature  of 
our  retinue.  These  dependants  are  of  excellent  use  on  a 
rainy  day,  or  when  a  man  has  not  a  mind  to  dress  ;  or  to 
exclude  solitude,  when  one  has  neither  a  mind  to  that  or  to 
company.  There  are  of  this  good-natured  order,  who  are  so 
kind  as  to  divide  themselves,  and  do  these  good  offices  to  10 
many.  Five  or  six  of  them  visit  a  whole  quarter  of  the 
town,  and  exclude  the  spleen,  without  fees,  from  the  families 
they  frequent  If  they  do  not  prescribe  physic,  they  can 
be  company  when  you  take  it.  Very  great  benefactors 
to  the  rich,  or  those  whom  they  call  people  at  their  ease, 
are  your  persons  of  no  consequence.  I  have  known  some 
of  them,  by  the  help  of  a  little  cunning,  make  delicious 
flatterers.  They  know  the  course  of  the  town,  and  the 
general  characters  of  persons ;  by  this  means  they  will 
sometimes  tell  the  most  agreeable  falsehoods  imaginable.  20 
They  will  acquaint  you,  that  such  a  one  of  a  quite  contrary 
party  said,  "That  though  you  were  engaged  in  different 
interests,  yet  he  had  the  greatest  respect  for  your  good 
sense  and  address."  When  one  of  these  has  a  little  cunning, 
he  passes  his  time  in  the  utmost  satisfaction  to  himself  and 
his  friends  ;  for  his  position  is  never  to  report  or  speak  a 
displeasing  thing  to  his  friend.  As  for  letting  him  go  on  in 
an  error,  he  knows,  advice  against  them  is  the  office  of 
persons  of  greater  talents  and  less  discretion. 

The  Latin  word  for  a  flatterer,  assentator,  implies  no  more  30 
than  a  person,  that  barely  consents  ;  and  indeed  such  a  one 
if  a  man  were  able  to  purchase  or  maintain  him,  cannot  be 
bought  too  dear.  Such  a  one  never  contradicts  you  ;  but 
gains  upon  you,  not  by  a  fulsome  way  of  commending  you  in 
broad  terms,  but  liking  whatever  you  propose  or  utter  ;  at 
the  same  time,  is  ready  to  beg  your  pardon,  and  gainsay 


you,  if  you  chance  to  speak  ill  of  yourself.  An  old  lady 
is  very  seldom  without  such  a  companion  as  this,  who  can 
recite  the  names  of  all  her  lovers,  and  the  matches  refused 
by  her  in  the  days  when  she  minded  such  vanities,  as  she  is 
pleased  to  call  them,  though  she  so  much  approves  the 
mention  of  them.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  a  woman's  flatterer 
is  generally  elder  than  herself  ;  her  years  serving  at  once  to 
recommend  her  patroness's  age,  and  to  add  weight  to  her 
complaisance  in  all  other  particulars. 

10  We  gentlemen  of  small  fortunes  are  extremely  necessitous 
in  this  particular.  I  have  indeed  one  who  smokes  with  me 
often  ;  but  his  parts  are  so  low,  that  all  the  incense  he  does 
me  is  to  fill  his  pipe  with  me,  and  to  be  out  at  just  as  many 
whiffs  as  I  take.  This  is  all  the  praise  or  assent  that  he 
is  capable  of  ;  yet  there  are  more  hours  when  I  would  rather 
be  in  his  company  than  in  that  of  the  brightest  man  I  know. 
It  would  be  a  hard  matter  to  give  an  account  of  this 
inclination  to  be  flattered  ;  but  if  we  go  to  the  bottom  of  it, 
we  shall  find,  that  the  pleasure  in  it  is  something  like  that 

20  of  receiving  money  which  we  lay  out.  Every  man  thinks 
he  has  an  estate  of  reputation,  and  is  glad  to  see  one  that 
will  bring  any  of  it  home  to  him.  It  is  no  matter  how 
dirty  a  bag  it  is  conveyed  to  him  in,  or  by  how  clownish  a 
messenger,  so  the  money  be  good.  All  that  we  want,  to  be 
pleased  with  flattery,  is  to  believe  that  the  man  is  sincere 
who  gives  it  us.  It  is  by  this  one  accident,  that  absurd 
creatures  often  outrun  the  most  skilful  in  this  art.  Their 
want  of  ability  is  here  an  advantage  ;  and  their  bluntness, 
as  it  is  the  seeming  effect  of  sincerity,  is  the  best  cover  to 

30  artifice. 

Terence  introduces  a  flatterer  talking  to  a  coxcomb,  whom 
he  cheats  out  of  a  livelihood  ;  and  a  third  person  on  the 
stage  makes  on  him  this  pleasant  remark,  "  This  fellow  has 
an  art  of  making  fools  madmen."  The  love  of  flattery  is, 
indeed,  sometimes  the  weakness  of  a  great  mind ;  but  you 
see  it  also  in  persons,  who  otherwise  discover  no  manner 


of  relish  of  any  thing  above  mere  sensuality.  These  latter 
it  sometimes  improves  ;  but  always  debases  the  former.  A 
fool  is  in  himself  the  object  of  pity,  until  he  is  flattered. 
By  the  force  of  that,  his  stupidity  is  raised  into  affectation, 
and  he  becomes  of  dignity  enough  to  be  ridiculous.  I 
remember  a  droll,  that  upon  one's  saying,  "  The  times  are  so 
ticklish,  that  there  must  great  care  be  taken  what  one  says 
in  conversation  ";  answered  with  an  air  of  surliness  and 
honesty,  "If  people  will  be  free,  let  them  be  so  in  the 
manner  that  I  am,  who  never  abuse  a  man  but  to  his  face."  10 
He  had  no  reputation  for  saying  dangerous  truths  ;  therefore 
when  it  was  repeated,  "  You  abuse  a  man  but  to  his  face  ? " 
"Yes,"  says  he,  "  I  flatter  him." 

It  is  indeed  the  greatest  of  injuries  to  flatter  any  but  the 
unhappy,  or  such  as  are  displeased  with  themselves  for  some 
infirmity.  In  this  latter  case  we  have  a  member  of  our 
club,  who,  when  Sir  Jeffery  falls  asleep,  wakens  him  with 
snoring.  This  makes  Sir  Jeffery  hold  up  for  some  moments 
the  longer,  to  see  there  are  men  younger  than  himself 
among  us,  who  are  more  lethargic  than  he  is.  20 

When  flattery  is  practised  upon  any  other  consideration, 
it  is  the  most  abject  thing  in  nature  ;  nay,  I  cannot  think  of 
any  character  below  the  flatterer,  except  he  that  envies  him. 
You  meet  with  fellows  prepared  to  be  as  mean  as  possible 
in  their  condescensions  and  expressions  ;  but  they  want 
persons  and  talents  to  rise  up  to  such  a  baseness.  As  a 
coxcomb  is  a  fool  of  parts,  so  is  a  flatterer  a  knave  of  parts. 

The  best  of  this  order,  that  I  know,  is  one  who  disguises 
it  under  a  spirit  of  contradiction  or  reproof.  He  told  an 
arrant  driveller  the  other  day,  that  he  did  not  care  for  being  30 
in  company  with  him,  because  he  heard  he  turned  his  absent 
friends  into  ridicule.  And  upon  Lady  Autumn's  disputing 
with  him  about  something  that  happened  at  the  Revolution, 
he  replied  with  a  very  angry  tone,  "  Pray,  madam,  give  me 
leave  to  know  more  of  a  thing  in  which  I  was  actually 
concerned,  than  you  who  were  then  in  your  nurse's  arms." 


MR.    BICKERSTAFF   ON   HIMSELF.     No.    1. 

P.  I,  1.  7.  Grecian  Coffee-House.  In  the  first  number  of  The 
Taller,  published  on  Tuesday,  April  12,  1709,  Steele,  when 
describing  the  character  and  aims  of  the  new  paper,  states  that 
"all  accounts  of  gallantry,  pleasure  and  entertainment  shall  be 
under  the  article  of  White's  Chocolate  House  ;  poetry,  under  that 
of  Will's  Coffee-house ;  learning,  under  the  title  of  the  Grecian  ; 
foreign  and  domestic  news,  you  will  have  from  St.  James's  Coffee 
house  ;  and  what  else  I  have  to  offer  on  any  other  subject  shall 
be  dated  from  my  own  apartment."  The  Grecian  Coffee-house 
was  situated  in  a  small  street  off  the  Strand,  known  as  Devereux 
Court,  closed  in  1843.  It  was  the  favourite  resort  of  the  more 
staid  and  learned  men  of  the  period.  Here  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
had  drunk  coffee,  Addison  was  a  constant  visitor,  and  in  later 
times  Goldsmith  played  his  flute. 

1.  8.  from  an  unknown  hand ;  there  is  another  letter,  a  charm- 
ing  one,  from  this  country  friend  in  No.  112  of  The  Tatler. 

1.  14.  bills  of  mortality :  these  were  the  earliest  form  of  the 
record  of  births,  deaths,  and  marriages  in  the  British  Isles,  and 
were  published  weekly.  In  the  Plague  year,  1665,  Pepys,  in  an 
entry  under  September,  thus  refers  in  his  Diary  to  them,  "  To 
the  Tower,  and  there  sent  for  the  weekly  Bill  and  find  8,252  dead 
in  all,  and  of  these  6,978  of  the  Plague."  It  was  not  until  1836 
that  a  reliable  record  was  kept,  when  the  Registrar-General's 
Department  was  instituted.  The  earliest  attempt  to  compile 
such  statistics  is  said  to  have  been  due  to  Cromwell,  Henry  VIII.  's 
minister.  This  passage  then  would  mean,  that  Bickerstaff's  name 
is  more  widely  known  than  the  mere  record  of  his  birth  in  the 
'  bills  of  mortality  '  could  make  it. 

1.  18.  out  of  a  coffee-house,  i.e.  except  from  a  coffee-house.  The 
first  coffee-house  in  England  was  not  in  London,  but  in  Oxford, 


PP.  1-2.]       MR.   BICKERSTAFF  ON  HIMSELF.  81 

where  a  Jew  named  Jacobs  established  one  ;  this  was  in  1650. 
Two  years  later  Mr.  Edwards,  a  merchant,  brought  with  him 
from  Smyrna  to  London  a  Syrian  youth  named  Pasqua  Rosee,  to 
prepare  coffee  for  his  private  consumption.  Shortly  afterwards 
he  allowed  Pasqua  to  start  a  coffee-house  in  St.  Michael's  Alley, 
Cornhill ;  and  this  was  the  first  of  those  houses  which  rapidly 
became  such  centres  of  social  life  and  political  influence  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  Amongst  the  virtues  which  Pasqua,  in  his 
amusing  advertisement,  claims  for  the  novel  beverage  are  that 
"  it  much  quickens  the  spirits,  and  makes  the  heart  lightsome  ; 
it  is  good  against  sore  eyes,  and  the  better  if  you  hold  your 
head  over  it,  and  take  in  the  steam  that  way."  Pope  refers  to 
its  exhilarating  influence  in  his  lines  to  Henry  Cromwell : 
"  While  Coffee  shall  to  British  nymphs  be  dear, 
While  fragrant  steams  the  bended  head  shall  cheer." 

1.  20.  to  endeavour  at  the  covering,  to  attempt  to  conceal  or 

1.  21.  common,  common-place. 

P.  2,  1.  1.  a  grotto ;  an  Italian  word  derived  through  the 
Latin  from  the  Greek  Kpwn-Tr)  (pron.  krupte),  a  vault.  The 
artificial  taste  of  the  eighteenth  century  gave  rise  to  a  somewhat 
childish  eccentricity  in  the  matter  of  landscape  gardening. 
Pope's  garden  at  Twickenham  is  a  well-known  instance.  Here, 
within  the  limited  space  of  five  acres,  he  had  "a  grove,  an 
orangery,  a  wilderness,  a  mount,  a  bowling  green,"  besides  other 
features;  but  the  favourite  object  of  his  attention  was  the  famous 
'grotto,'  which  was  nothing  but  an  underground  tunnel,  the 
walls  of  which  were  thickly  covered  with  shells,  stones,  fossils, 
and  other  natural  curiosities. 

1.  3.  Tom's,  i.e.  Tom's  Coffee-house.  One  of  the  most  popular 
of  the  many  London  coffee-houses.  It  was  situated  at  No.  17 
Russell  Street,  Co  vent  Garden  ;  the  house  did  not  disappear  until 
1865,  although  it  had  then  long  ceased  to  be  a  coffee-house. 

Will's,  "The  father  of  the  modern  Club."  It  was  a  coffee 
house  kept  by  one  William  Urwin,  and  situated,  like  Tom's,  in 
Russell  Street.  It  was  Dryden's  favourite  resort.  Here  he  had 
the  place  of  honour  by  the  fire  in  winter,  and  on  summer  days 
he  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  balcony  overlooking  the  street ;  these 
places  he  called  his  "winter  and  summer  seats."  It  was  to  this 
coffee-house  that  Pope,  then  only  twelve  years  of  age,  was  taken, 
in  response  to  earnest  entreaties,  to  see  his  great  master  Dryden, 
whom  he  afterwards  described  as  a  "plump  man,  with  a  down 
look,  and  not  very  conversible.' 

White's,  i.e.  White's  Chocolate-house,  established  in  1698,  in 
St.  James's  Street,  and  close  to  St.  James's  Palace.  At  this 
house  the  famous  White's  Club  had  its  origin,  which,  after 


Addison  and  Steele  had  passed  away,  developed  into  one  of  the 
greatest  gambling  clubs  in  the  country.  Amongst  the  original 
members  were  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  the  noted  letter-writer 
and  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  and  Colley  Gibber,  the  only 
actor  ever  elected  a  member.  Swift  condemned  it  as  "the  bane 
of  half  the  English  nobility." 

1.  4.  St.  James's,  a  coffee-house  frequented  by  the  Whigs  from 
the  time  of  Queen  Anne,  until  it  was  finally  closed  in  1806. 
When  Mr.  Spectator  (Spectator,  No.  403)  goes  his  rounds  of  the 
coffee-houses  to  ascertain  the  truth  about  the  report  of  the 
French  king's  death,  he  says,  "that  I  might  begin  as  near  the 
fountain-head  as  possible,  I  first  of  all  called  in  at  St.  James's 
where  I  found  the  whole  outward  room  in  a  buzz  of  politics." 
And  so  Steele  selects  it  as  a  locality  from  which  foreign  news 
was  to  be  obtained  for  The  Tatler.  This  coffee-house  was 
memorable  later  on  as  the  place  where  Goldsmith's  poem 
Retaliation  originated,  and  was  read  by  its  author.  Johnson, 
Garrick,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Burke,  Goldsmith,  and  others 
dined  here  together.  Goldsmith  was  generally  the  last  of  the 
party  to  appear,  and  on  one  occasion  each  member  of  the 
company  wrote  an  epitaph  on  "the  late  Dr.  Goldsmith."  At 
their  next  meeting  Goldsmith,  in  retaliation,  produced  his  poem, 
in  which  he  sketched  the  various  members  of  the  party. 

1.  9.  ingenious,  the  intellectual  people,  the  wits.  The  word 
was  often,  at  this  period,  confused  with  '  ingenuous. ' 

1.  11.  Isaac  Bickerstaff.  For  origin  of  this  name,  see  Intro 

1.  12.  justified,  vindicated,  defended.   Cf.  Milton,  Par.  Lost,  I. : 
"     .     .     .     assert  Eternal  Providence, 
And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men." 

1.  18.  a  complete  set.  The  Tatler  was  published  on  Tuesday, 
Thursday,  and  Saturday,  the  days  upon  which  our  ancestors 
could  post  their  letters  for  the  country  :  and  thus  the  paper 
contained  the  latest  news  for  the  country  subscribers.  See 

1.  19.  lucubrations,  a  clumsy  word  from  the  Latin  lucubro 
(connected  with  lux  =  light),  to  work  by  candle-light ;  hence,  a 
work  composed  by  lamp-light,  or  in  retirement,  was  called  a 

1.  28.  the  vulgar,  i.e.  the  generality  of  people.  The  word  has 
changed  its  meaning  since  the  eighteenth  century.  Then  it 
meant  no  more  than  'the  people,'  and  preserved  its  close  relation 
ship  with  its  Latin  original,  rulgus,  the  multitude,  having  no  sug 
gestion  of  vulgarity. 

1.  29.  the  frolic,  i.e.  gay  and  thoughtless  people.  The  word 
frolic  was  originally  an  adjective,  and  was  borrowed  from  the 


Dutch  in  the  sixteenth  century  (vrolijlc,  merry).  It  is  now 
obsolescent  as  an  adjective,  less  rare  as  a  substantive,  but 
common  as  a  verb.  For  its  use  as  an  adjective,  cf.  Milton, 
L' Allegro, 

"  The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  wind  "  ; 
and  Scott,  Lady  of  the.  Lake, 

"  'Tis  now  a  seraph  bold  with  touch  of  fire, 
"Pis  now  the  brush  of  Fairy's  frolic  wing. ;> 

1.  35.  elegant,  refined  ;  from  Lat.  eligo,  to  select. 
P.  3,  L  10.  advices,  communications. 

1.  13.  impertinence,  an  unpleasant  or  intrusive  element.  The 
word  properly  means  an  irrelevancy,  from  Lat.  in  and  pertVMOt 
not  to  belong  to. 

1.  25.  It  is  remarkable,  etc.  The  conclusion  of  this  essay  is 
particularly  interesting,  as,  while  ostensibly  a  sketch  of  the 
imaginary  Isaac  BickerstajFs  life,  it  contains  an  outline  of 
Steele's  own  career,  and  should  be  studied  from  this  point  of 
view.  For  further  allusions  to  personal  incidents  see  following 

1.  31.  taw,  a  Dutch  word  for  a  special  kind  of  marble.  Dutch 
marbles  were  in  former  days  in  much  repute. 

1.  32.  barbarously  used,  severely  punished.  Steele  (Spectator, 
No.  157),  in  after  years,  vigorously  protested  against  the  cruel 
floggings  to  which  schoolboys  were  subject  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  "Men  were  flogged  into  drill  and  discipline,  they 
were  flogged  into  courage,  they  were  flogged  into  obedience ; 
boys  were  flogged  into  learning,  'prentices  into  diligence; 
women  were  flogged  into  virtue.  Father  Stick  has  still  his 
disciples,  but  in  the  last  century  he  was  king"  (Besant,  London). 

1.  34.  false  concords,  i.e.  grammatical  errors  in  his  Latin 
exercises.  Steele  himself  did  not  enter  the  Charterhouse  until 
his  thirteenth  year,  i.e.  in  1684. 

1.  35.  the  University.  Steele  did  not  matriculate  at  Christ 
Church,  Oxford,  until  in  his  eighteenth  year.  Addison,  who 
was  his  junior  by  six  weeks,  entered  Magdalen  College,  Oxford, 
at  the  early  age  of  fifteen.  Steele,  like  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  left 
without  taking  a  degree,  and,  like  him  too,  immediately  enlisted 
on  leaving  the  University.  See  Introduction. 

P.  4,  1.  3.  the  occult  sciences,  the  principal  being  astrology  and 
alchemy.  The  former,  an  application  of  astronomical  facts  for 
purposes  of  prediction,  had  its  origin  in  the  East  in  very  remote 
times,  the  Egyptians  and  Chaldeans,  and  later  the  Romans, 
being  noted  experts.  The  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century 
saw  an  extraordinary  revival  of  the  superstition.  James  I., 
Charles  I.,  and  even  Oliver  Cromwell  are  said  to  have  consulted 


astrologers.  It  is  worth  noticing  that  Morin,  the  last  of  the 
great  astrologers,  died  in  1656,  ten  years  after  the  supposed 
birth  of  Isaac  Bickerstajf,  who  is  stated  to  have  been  sixty-four 
years  of  age  in  1709,  and  was  therefore  born  in  1646.  Alchemy 
was  the  art  by  which  it  was  pretended  that  gold  and  silver  could 
be  made  out  of  the  baser  metals,  the  so-called  philosopher's  stone 
being  the  agent  in  the  imposture.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  in 
this  connection  that  Steele  himself,  before  he  married  for  the 
first  time  in  1705,  was  actually  engaged  in  making  chemical 
experiments  in  pursuit  of  the  philosopher's  stone  (see  Aitken's 
Life  of  Steele,  Vol.  I.,  p.  143). 

1.  4.  Oliver  Cromwell.  The  Protector  died  on  the  3rd  of 
September,  1658,  and  was  buried  in  Henry  VII. 's  beautiful 
chapel  in  Westminster  Abbey.  After  the  Restoration,  Charles 
II.  directed  that  the  body  should  be  disinterred  and  hung  on  a 
gallows  at  Tyburn.  After  this  the  remains,  with  the  exception 
of  the  head,  were  buried  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows.  The  head 
was  fixed  upon  a  pole  at  Westminster  Hall.  Very  recently 
(1895)  a  head,  stated  on  good  grounds  to  have  been  that  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  has  been  brought  to  light  in  London  :  a  portion 
of  an  iron  spike  which  had  been  thrust  through  the  skull  is  still 

1.  7.  conjurer,  used  here  in  its  original  sense  of  wizard, 
magician.  Cf.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The  Woman-Hater  : 

"  Now  do  I 

Sit  like  a  conjurer  within  my  circle, 
And  these  the  devils  that  are  raised  about  me." 

1.  10.  Dick's  coffee-house,  in  Fleet  Street,  called  so  after  Dick 
Turner,  the  proprietor.  The  house  itself  was  an  old  one.  It 
was  originally  the  printing  office  where  Richard  Tottel,  printer 
to  Edward  VI.,  Mary,  and  Elizabeth,  published,  in  1557,  the 
first  English  collection  of  songs  and  sonnets,  better  known  as 
TotteVs  Miscellany.  It  was  in  this  house  that  Cowper,  the  poet, 
many  years  after,  developed  his  first  attack  of  insanity.  He 
here  read  a  letter  in  a  newspaper  which  he  imagined  had  been 
written  with  the  object  of  driving  him  to  commit  suicide. 
The  Trumpet.  See  Essay  9  and  notes. 
Sheer-lane,  otherwise  spelled  Shire-lane,  near  Temple  Bar. 


P.  4,  1.  17.  no  relish  of  their  being,  no  pleasure  in  life. 
1.  23.  instances,  proofs,  evidence. 

1.  25.  manes,  the  spirits.     It  was  the  name  generally  applied 
by  the  Romans  to  souls  when  separated  from  the  body.     The 


origin  of  the  word  is  unknown.  The  inscriptions  on  Roman 
tombs  begin  with  the  letters  D.M.,  i.e.  Dis  Manibus,  to  remind 
the  living  that  the  grave  was  sacred  to  the  departed,  and  should 
not  sacrilegiously  be  disturbed. 

1.  27.  commemorate,  to  recall  with  solemnity.  The  word 
commemoration  is  still  used  ecclesiastically  for  days  upon  which 
the  acts  of  saints  are  recalled  to  memory,  and  in  universities  for 
days  upon  which  a  founder's  name  is  recalled  with  gratitude. 

P.  5,  1.  15.  by  the  benefit  of,  by  the  kindness  or  goodness  of. 

1.  20.  poises  the  heart,  places  a  poise  or  weight  upon  the  heart, 
and  so  checks  its  excited  and  unnatural  action. 

1.  33.  The  first  sense  of  sorrow,  etc.  Although  Isaac  Bicker- 
s^a/f  nominally  speaks  here,  this  passage  has  always  been  accepted 
as  a  touching  reference  by  Steele  to  his  own  early  sorrow  on  the 
death  of  his  father. 

1.  34.  my  father,  Richard  Steele,  a  Dublin  solicitor,  of  Moun- 
taine  (the  present  Monkstown),  Co.  Dublin,  and  Sub-Sheriff  of 
the  Co.  Tipperary  in  1672. 

P.  6,  1.  2.  my  mother.  The  maiden  name  of  Steele's  mother 
was  Elinor  Sheyles.  She  was  a  widow  when  Steele's  father 
married  her,  having  been  first  the  wife  of  Thomas  Symes  of 
Dublin,  Esq. 

1.  3.   battledore,  a  distortion  of  the  original  word,  and  now  still 

further  incorrectly   spelled  battledoor.     It  is  a  corruption  of  a 

Provenpal  word  batedor,  a  washing-beetle  ;  from  battre,  to  beat, 

and  -dor,  a  form  of  the  Latin  suffix  -tor,  expressing  the  agent. 

fell  a  beating,  a  in  such  expressions  is  equivalent  to  on. 

1.  31.  We,  that  are  very  old.  Isaac  Bickerstaff  was  now  sixty- 
five  years  of  age.  See  note  p.  4,  1.  3. 

1.  32.  passages,  incidents. 

1.  35.  ofllce.  Steele  uses  the  word  in  the  sense  of  an  act  of 
worship.  It  is  still  used  ecclesiastically  in  this  sense,  as  in 
'offices  for  the  dead.' 

P.  7,1.  5.  passions,  emotions.  The  word  had  a  wider  meaning 
than  it  has  now.  See  Locke,  On  the  Unman  Understanding  : 
"  Some  sort  of  passions  arising  from  them  (i.e.  the  actions  of  the 
mind),  such  as  is  the  satisfaction  or  uneasiness  arising  from  any 
thought. " 

1.  26.  ignorantly,  unconsciously,  unwittingly.  In  this  sense  it 
occur  sin  the  Authorized  Version  of  the  Bible,  Acts,  xvii.  23  : 
"Whom  therefore  ye  ignorantly  worship,  Him  declare  I  unto 
you. " 

1.  27.  carelessly,  free  from  any  conscious  effort  or  anxiety  to 


1.  30.  thoughtless,  not  in  our  modern  sense,  with  a  suggestion 
of  unkindness,  but  unsuspecting,  unconscious. 

P.  8,  1.  2.  Garraway's  coffee-house.  Situated  in  Change 
Alley.  This  was  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the  coffee-houses. 
The  original  proprietor  was  Thomas  Garway  or  Garraway,  who 
dealt  in  tobacco  and  coffee,  and  here  tea  was  sold  for  the  first 
time  in  England.  It  became  famous  as  a  place  of  resort  during 
the  exciting  times  of  the  South  Sea  Bubble.  It  was  a  favourite 
locality  with  Dean  Swift  when  in  London. 

1.  4.  we  can  be  company,  i.e.  we  can  be  companionable. 

1.  11.  We  drank  two  bottles  a  man.  The  two  blots  upon  the 
moral  history  of  the  eighteenth  century  were  the  drinking  and 
gambling  habits  of  the  nation.  "It  was  about  this  time  that 
England  began  to  drink  hard,  and  she  continued  to  do  so  for 
about  a  hundred  years  "  (Besant,  London}.  All  classes  drank ; 
and  although  Steele  and  even  Addison  sometimes  exceeded,  they, 
and  most  of  the  greater  literary  men,  were  sober  in  comparison 
with  the  society  in  which  they  lived. 

A  VISIT  TO  A  FRIEND.     No.  3. 

P.  8,  1.  20.  entertainments,  sources  of  enjoyment. 

1.  28.  complication,  from  Lat.  con,  together,  and  plico,  to 
weave  ;  the  modern  word  is  generally  employed  in  the  sense  of 
unpleasant  or  difficult  entanglement ;  here  means  merely  a 
blending,  an  intertwining. 

P.  9,  1.  14.  mighty  subject,  a  subject  of  great  interest. 

1.  21.  Mrs.  Mary.  The  use  of  titles  Mrs.  and  Miss,  as  denoting 
married  and  unmarried  women  respectively,  is  comparatively 
modern.  In  former  times  Mrs.,  in  addition  to  its  present 
application,  was  descriptive  of  young  unmarried  ladies,  who 
were  addressed  as  Madam,  Miss  being  reserved  for  little  girls 
under  ten.  Thus  in  Shakspere's  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  the 
mother  and  daughter  are  Mistress  Page  and  Mistress  Anne  Page. 
Steele  before  his  marriage  to  Mary  Scurlock  addresses  her  as 
Mrs.  Scurlock  ;  and  Hester  Johnson  (Stella)  is  always  spoken  of 
by  Dean  Swift  as  Mrs.  Johnson. 

1.  28.  in  the  coach,  i.e.  either  in  the  mail-coach  or  the  stage 
coach.  The  mail  coaches  generally  started  from  London  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  the  charge  was  fourpeiice  a  mile 
for  passengers.  The  ordinary  stage-coach  carried  passengers  for 
threepence  a  mile. 

P.  10,  1.  1.  play-house,  an  old-fashioned  word  for  the  theatre  ; 
so  the  actors  were  called  players.  The  hours  for  theatrical 

7-12,]  A  VISIT  TO  A  FRIEND.  87 

performances  have  been  gradually  getting  later.  The  play  at 
the  Elizabethan  theatre  commenced  at  three  o'clock.  In  1663, 
on  the  first  play-bill  issued  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  the  hour 
is  still  three  o'clock. 

1.  21.  so  many  obligations  to  her,  so  deeply  indebted  to  her. 

1.  22.  moderation,  i.e.  of  anxiety. 

1.  27.  complacency  to  my  inclinations,  consideration  for  my 

P.  n,  1.  3.  Tearfulness,  reluctance,  shrinking  from. 

1.  4.  the  meanest,  the  humblest  member  of  our  household. 

1.  8.  quickest  joy,  most  lively  pleasure  (A.-S.  cwic,  alive).  The 
use  of  the  word  quick,  as  equivalent  to  swift,  expeditious,  is 
secondary  and  modern. 

1.  13.  baby,  a  doll ;  so  called  because  originally  made  to  repre 
sent  a  baby. 

1.  14.  the  gossiping  of  it,  the  prattle  about  the  doll. 

1.  26.  applying  herself  to  me,  addressing  me. 

1.  34.  full-bottomed  periwigs  were  wigs  which  fell  down 
behind  over  the  neck  and  back.  Periwig  is  derived  from  the 
Dutch  form  of  the  French  word  ptrruque,  a  wig.  Wigs,  in  the 
Elizabethan  period,  were  worn  by  actors  only,  and  so  HnmUt 
(Act  in.,  sc.  ii. )  describes  a  bad  actor  as  a  "robustious,  periwig- 
pated  knave."  They  did  not  appear  as  an  ordinary  head-dress 
until  the  time  of  Charles  II. ;  and  until  early  in  the  reign  of 
George  III.,  when  the  fashion  changed,  they  were  universally 
worn  by  the  better  classes.  In  1765  the  Master  Perruquiers  of 
London  presented  a  petition  to  the  king  to  beg  him  to  revive  the 
fashion.  They  were  never  worn  by  the  working  classes,  who  tied 
their  hair  behind. 

1.  3.").  open-breasted,  i.e.  with  the  waistcoat  open,  so  as  to 
display  the  shirt,  a  fashion  at  one  time  in  vogue  amongst  the 
young  men  of  Steele's  day.  In  Tatter  No.  246  Steele  describes 
a  "fat  fellow,"  who,  "  out  of  an  affectation  of  youth,  wore  his 
breast  open  in  the  midst  of  winter,"  and  he  writes  to  beg  of  him 
"  to  button  his  waistcoat  from  collar  to  waistband." 

P.  12,  1.  1.  easiness,  ease  of  manner. 

1.  6.  the  front  box.  It  was  the  custom  in  the  earlier  part  of 
the  eighteenth  century  for  ladies  to  occupy  the  front  boxes  of  the 
theatre,  while  gentlemen  sat  in  the  side-boxes. 

1.  11.  toast,  from  the  Old  French  tostee,  scorched  bread  (Lat. 
torreo  =  to  parch).  A  recognized  beauty  was  called  a  fonsf, 
because  her  health  Avas  frequently  drunk  amongst  the  fashionable 
gentlemen  about  town.  The  origin  of  the  term  is  amusingly, 
but  incorrectly,  given  in  Tathr  No.  24.  The  true  origin  of  this 
use  of  the  word  is  from  the  custom  of  placing  a  piece  of 


toasted  bread  or  biscuit  in  the  bowl ;  the  drink  so  treated  was 
called  a  toast,  and  finally  the  person  whose  health  was  drunk 
received  the  title.     Compare  Sheridan,  School  for  Scandal : 
"  Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink  to  the  lass, 

I  warrant  she'll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass  ! " 
1.  12.  fantastical  preferment,  whimsical  commendation  or  praise 
of  the  young  lady. 

1.  15.  a  point  of  war,  a  military  term,  long  since  obsolete,  for 
martial  music  ;  a  military  air.  The  word  point,  as  employed  by 
musicians,  is  derived  from  the  points  or  dots  which  formerly 
represented  musical  notes.  Its  use  still  survives  in  the  word 

1.  19.  parts,  natural  gifts  or  abilities.  Compare  "theporfoand 
merits  of  Sir  Roger  "  (Spectator,  No.  2)  and  Essay  20,  p.  79, 1.  27 : 
"  A  coxcomb  is  a  fool  of  parts,  so  is  a  flatterer  a  knave  of  ^ar^s." 

1.  21.  JEsop's  Fables  ;  ^sop  or  ^Esopus,  a  Phrygian  who  lived 
about  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century  B.C.  His  place  of  birth, 
like  that  of  Homer,  is  uncertain.  He  is  commonly  accepted  as 
the  originator  of  that  particular  form  of  moral  tale  which  in  all 
ages  has  proved  most  popular.  He  took  up  his  residence  at  the 
court  of  the  Lydian  king,  Croesus,  where  he  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  Solon.  While  on  a  visit  to  Athens  during  the  rule  of 
Pesistratus,  he  wrote  his  famous  fable  of  Jupiter  and  the  Frogs,  as 
a  warning  to  the  citizens. 

1.  25.  adventures  of  Don  Belianis  of  Greece,  etc.  These 
stories  and  romances  formed  the  chief  literature  of  the  poorer 
classes  in  England  during  the  eighteenth  century.  They  were 
published  in  single  pamphlets  of  from  sixteen  to  twenty- four 
pages,  with  rough  woodcuts,  and  were  known  as  '  chap-books,' 
so  called  because  they  were  sold  throughout  the  country  by 
chapmen,  or  pedlars.  They  continued  to  be  largely  read  until 
the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  when  the  Penny 
Magazine  and  Chambers'  Tracts  and  Miscellanies  killed  them. 

1.  26.  Guy  of  Warwick,  the  famous  hero  of  Warwickshire,  said  to 
have  lived  in  the  reign  of  Athelstane.  His  so-called  armour, 
of  gigantic  proportions,  is  still  preserved  in  Warwick  Castle. 

1.  28.  forwardness,  not,  as  now,  an  unpleasant  obtrusiveness, 
but  satisfactory  progress  in  his  studies. 

1.  32.  John  Hickerthrift,  better  known  as  Tom  Hickathrift, 
and  probably  a  real  personage,  was  famous  for  his  gigantic 
strength.  His  feats,  which  excited  the  astonishment  of  the 
people  of  Cambridge  and  Norfolk,  are  duly  chronicled  in  a 
curious  chap-book  under  the  title  of  The  Pleasant  and  Delightful 
History  of  Thomas  Hickathrift.  A  large  grave  is  still  shown  in 
Tilney  churchyard,  Norfolk,  as  the  burial-place  of  this  hero. 

12-16.]  A  VISIT  TO  A  FRIEND.  89 

1.  33.  Bevis  of  Southampton  is  stated  in  the  chap-books  to 
have  lived  in  the  reign  of  Edgar,  and  the  scene  of  his  heroic 
deeds  is  laid  partly  in  England  and  partly  in  the  Holy  Land. 
St.  George.  It  is  impossible  to  say  when  St.  George  was  adopted 
as  the  champion  of  England.  The  earliest  record  of  his  adven 
tures  states  that  he  was  born  in  Cappadocia,  in  Asia  Minor,  and 
places  the  scenes  of  his  well-known  adventures  in  the  East ;  but 
the  chap-book,  in  which  Mr.  Bickerstaff' s  little  friend  delighted, 
gives  the  place  of  his  birth  as  Coventry,  and  thus  makes  him  an 

P.  13,  1.  9.  conversation :  the  word  was  not  employed  in  the 
eighteenth  century  in  the  restricted  sense  in  which  we  now  use  it, 
but  implied  general  intercourse  and  association  with  our  fellow- 
creatures.  Of.  Locke  On  Education:  "Conversation,  when  they 
(i.e.  young  people)  come  into  the  world,  soon  gives  them  a 
becoming  assurance." 

A  VISIT  TO  DON   SALTERO'S.     No  4. 

P.  13,  1.  26.  mountebanks,  quacks,  from  Italian  montambanco, 
i.e.  one  who  mounts  upon  a  bench  to  commend  and  sell  his  medi 
cines.  Cf.  Hamlet,  iv.  vii.,  where  Laertes,  in  reference  to  his 
poisoned  sword,  says,  "  I  bought  an  unction  of  a  mountebank." 

P.  14,  1.  30.  detraction,  a  prevalent  habit  of  malicious  gossip. 

1.  35.  madam  Depingle's,  the  house  of  a  fashionable  lady  of 
Steele's  day. 

P.  15,  1.  4.  Pretty  and  Very  Pretty  Fellows,  see  Tatlers,  Nos.  21 
and  24,  where  Steele  had  defined  these  varieties  of  fops  and 
'  ladies'  men. ' 

1.  11.  kit,  a  small  fiddle  ;  from  the  Lat.  cithara,  a  lyre  or  lute, 
a  zither. 

1.  15.  Isaac,  a  famous  French  dancing-master  of  Steele's  day. 

"  And  /A'mr'.s  rigadoon  shall  live  as  long 
As  Raphael's  painting,  or  as  Virgil's  song." 

1.  27.  rigadoon,  a  lively  and  fashionable  dance  of  the  period, 
performed  by  two  persons  ;  it  was  introduced  from  the  south  of 
France.  The  word  is  etymologically  connected  with  the  English 
rig,  lively. 

P.  16,  1.  6.  hective,  heated,  feverish. 

1.  0.  village  of  Chelsea,  formerly  a  village  about  two  miles  from 
London,  situated  to  the  west  of  the  city  and  on  the  river  bank  ; 
famous  for  the  Hospital  for  old  soldiers  founded  by  Charles  II. 
The  name  may  possibly  be  derived  from  Chexd  (as  in  Chesil 
Beach),  a  strand  formed  of  pebbles  cast  up  by  the  sea,  and  cy,  an 


island.     Sir  Thomas  More,  who  lived  here  in  the  fifteenth  cen 
tury,  spelled  the  name  as  ChdcJiith. 

1.  15.  the  five  fields,  formerly  a  rural  district  west  of  London,  in 
fested  until  the  beginning  of  this  century  with  footpads  and  robbers ; 
upon  which  Eaton  and  Belgrave  Squares  are  now  built.  It  adjoins 
Hyde  Park,  and  is  now  the  fashionable  locality  known  as  Belgravia. 

1.  16.  the  coffee-house  where  the  Literati,  etc.,  see  note  below, 
1.  23. 

1.  1 7.  Mr.  Justice  Overdo,  a  character  in  Ben  Jonson's  play  of 
Bartholomew  Fair.  The  incident  referred  to  is  the  amusing  one 
in  Act  ii.,  sc.  i. ,  where  Overdo  goes  disguised  to  the  Fair  to 
detect  crime  on  his  own  account,  and  is  subsequently  mistaken 
for  a  cut-purse,  and  unmercifully  beaten. 

1.  19.  incognito,  disguised,  unrecognized ;  an  Italian  word, 
from  Lat.  incognitus,  unknown. 

1.  23.  the  coffee-house  :  the  famous  coffee-house  opened  in  1690 
at  Chelsea,  and  known  as  Don  Saltero's.  The  proprietor  was  a 
man  named  Salter,  humorously  called  Don  Saltero,  who,  in  order 
to  attract  guests,  had  converted  his  house  into  a  museum.  He  had 
been  a  servant  to  Sir  Hans  Soane,  founder  of  the  museum  still 
existing  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  who  had  presented  Salter  with 
a  number  of  curiosities  from  his  surplus  collection.  Salter 
was  a  barber,  a  dentist,  and  a  performer  on  the  fiddle,  which 
facts  will  explain  Steele's  references  below.  (See  note,  p.  18, 1.  21.) 
The  house  was  situated  in  Cheyne  Walk,  not  far  from  that  in 
which  Carlyle  lived  in  our  time.  Salter's  curious  collection  was 
sold  by  auction  in  1799. 

1.  25.  gimcracks  :  the  word  originally  meant  a  spruce,  pert 
boy  (gim,  neat,  crack,  a  young  dandy),  and  subsequently  anything 
showy,  a  toy  (Century  Dictionary). 

1.  30.  Gingivistse,  a  humorous  title  for  dentists,  formed  from 
the  Latin  gingiva,  the  gum. 

P.  17,  1.  8.  Roger  de  Caubly,  i.e.  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  This 
very  old  and  well-known  dance  tune  is  said  to  have  been  named 
after  a  knight  who  lived  in  the  time  of  Richard  I. ,  who  is  referred 
to  by  older  writers  as  Roger  of  Caulverley.  The  employment  of 
the  name  by  Steele  and  Addison  as  that  of  the  hero  of  the 
Spectator  Club  is  well  known. 

1.  10.  "  Christ  Church  Bells,"  the  popular  catch  written  by  Dr. 
Aldrich,  who  was  Dean  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  when  Steele 
was  a  student  at  that  college. 

1.  14.  The  particularity,  the  particular  qualities  or  peculiarities. 

1.  20.  Vossius  ;  Isaac  Vossius,  a  learned  Dutchman  of  Leyden, 
who  settled  in  England  in  1670.  Charles  II.  made  him  a  Canon 
of  Windsor,  where  he  died  in  1688,  the  year  of  Pope's  birth. 

16-18.]  A  VISIT  TO  DON  SALTEKO'S.  91 

1.  21.  comb  his  head  in  Iambics,  i.e.  with  the  rhythmical 
beat  or  movement  of  the  iambic  metre. 

1.  24.  the  barber  in  Don  Quixote,  Master  Nicholas,  the 
amusing  character  in  Cervantes'  work.  See  Don  Quixote,  chap.  v. 

1.  27.  John  Tradescant,  the  Tradescants,  father  and  son,  both 
named  John,  were  Dutch  by  descent.  The  elder  Tradescant  is 
supposed  to  have  come  to  England  about  the  end  of  Queen  Eliza 
beth's  reign.  They  were  both  industrious  collectors  of  objects 
of  natural  history.  Their  collection  was  bequeathed  to  Isaac 
Ashmole,  and  formed  the  nucleus  of  the  Askmolean  Museum  at 

1.  31.  his  Sclopeta  and  sword  of  Toledo,  a  sclopeta  or  sclopette 
(in  old  French  escopetie),  was  a  kind  of  hand-gun  which  came 
into  use  in  the  fourteenth  century.  It  is  said  to  have  been 
especially  used  in  later  times  by  the  Spaniards  in  their  American 
conquests.  Toledo  was  world-renowned  in  the  Middle  Ages  for 
its  sword-blades. 

P.  1 8,  1.  6.  within  three  miles  of  Bedford.  This  district  has 
long  been  famous  for  its  manufacture  of  straw  hats. 

1.  13.  among  his  rarities.  In  the  auction  catalogue  printed 
on  the  occasion  of  the  sale  of  Salter's  collection,  among  a  host  of 
other  curious  objects  the  following  are  noted  :  a  petrified  crab 
from  China,  Queen  Katherine's  wedding  shoes,  a  starved  swallow, 
William  the  Conqueror's  family  sword,  Mary.  Queen  of  Scot's 
pincushion,  and  serpents'  tongues. 

1.  15.  engine,  a  contrivance,  instrument  (Lat.  inrjenium). 

1.  17.  patent  for  making  punch.  Don  Saltero  was  noted  for 
his  skill  in  mixing  punch,  a  favourite  drink  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  having  been  introduced  by  our  navy  from  India  towards 
the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  earliest  printed  refer 
ence  to  it  is  in  Fryer's  Travels  (1672),  where  the  well-known 
derivation  of  the  word  from  the  Hindustani  paunch,  '  five '  (in 
reference  to  its  Jive  ingredients),  is  given. 

1.  18.  muff.  The  muff,  in  Steele's  day,  was  largely  worn  by 
men  of  fashion.  Salter  carried  a  grey  muff,  which  he  generally 
held  across  his  face  in  winter  as  a  characteristic  affectation. 

1.  19.  without  his  wife.  This  was  a  severe  penalty  for  Salter, 
whose  wife  was  a  terrible  shrew,  and  from  whom  he  was  glad  to 
escape  for  a  time. 

1.  21.  this  operator.  Salter  thus  describes,  in  doggerel  verse, 
his  own  accomplishments : 

' '  Through  various  employs  I've  passed, 
A  scraper,  virtuoso,  projector, 
Tooth-drawer,  trimmer,  and  at  last 
I'm  now  a  gimcrack  whim  collector." 


FASHIONABLE   HOURS.     No.   5. 

P.  19,  1.  14.  observed  the  same  hours,  etc.  See  notes  below, 
p.  20,  11.  29,  30. 

1.  23.  The  curfew,  from  Old  French  covrefeu,  'fire-cover,'  an 
extinguisher  employed  in  putting  out  the  fires.  It  is  often 
erroneously  stated  that  the  practice  of  putting  out  the  house 
fires  at  a  fixed  hour  was  introduced  by  William  the  Conqueror. 
The  custom  probably  prevailed  in  Saxon  times,  and  certainly 
existed  in  nearly  every  European  country  in  very  early  ages.  It 
was  a  precautionary  measure  to  ensure  the  personal  safety  of  the 
citizen,  by  compelling  him  to  keep  indoors  and  go  to  bed  im 
mediately  after  dark,  at  a  period  when  police  did  not  exist  and 
robbers  and  assassins  were  numerous.  In  earlier  times  in  Eng 
land  the  curfew  bell  was  rung  at  seven  o'clock  ;  but,  later  on, 
eight,  and  in  some  localities  nine,  were  the  hours.  In  Scotland 
ten  o'clock  was  the  customary  hour.  A  bell  was  also  rung  in  the 
morning  as  a  signal  for  rising.  At  Ludlow,  in  Shropshire,  this 
bell  is  still  rung  at  six,  and  the  curfew  at  nine. 

1.  28.  crimp  and  basset.  These  were  fashionable  card  games. 
Basset  was  an  Italian  game,  introduced  into  France  by  Cardinal 
Mazarin  in  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  thence  brought  to  the 
court  of  Charles  II.  by  some  of  the  French  ladies  who  came  to 
England  during  that  monarch's  reign. 

P.  20,  1.  9.  lady  of  quality.     A  lady  of  high  social  position. 

1.  12.  bellman.  A  parish  official,  whose  duty  it  was  to  act  as 
inspector  of  the  watchmen  and  awake  the  citizens  in  case  of  fire 
by  ringing  his  hand-bell.  By  day  he  perambulated  the  town 
with  his  bell,  advertising  sales  and  giving  notice  of  weddings, 
funerals,  and  other  local  events.  The  bellman  was  sometimes  an 
original  character,  and  adopted  the  practice  of  writing  and  pub 
lishing  doggerel  verses,  which  he  distributed  amongst  the  citizens 
at  Christmas  time,  and  for  which  he  received  gifts  in  return  ; 
hence  the  phrase  '  bellman's  verse '  as  equivalent  to  '  bad  poetry.' 
Shakspere  refers  to  this  official  in  Macbeth,  Act  II.,  sc.  ii.  : 

"  It  was  the  owl  that  shrieked, 
The  fatal  bellman,  which  gives  the  sternest  good-night." 

1.  13.  watch,  i.e.  the  watchmen.  The  first  attempt  to  establish 
a  regular  system  of  night  police  was  when  Henry  III.,  in  1253, 
instituted  the  night  watchman,  who  continued  in  existence  until 
1830,  when  Sir  Robert  Peel  established  the  present  metropolitan 
police.  The  old  London  watchman  carried  a  cresset  or  iron  cage 
fixed  at  the  end  of  a  pole,  in  which  a  piece  of  resin -soaked  rope 
burned.  In  James  I.  's  time  he  was  equipped  with  a  horn  lantern 
and  a  spear.  As  the  watchmen  were  almost  always  old  and 
decrepit,  men  their  incompetency  became  proverbial,  and  they 

19-22.]  FASHIONABLE  HOURS.  93 

were  the  victims  of  endless  practical  jokes.  In  Hanoverian  times 
they  were  called  'Charlies.'  Shakspere  gives  us  a  delightfully 
amusing  picture  of  their  methods  in  the  proceedings  of  Dogberry, 
Verges,  and  their  associates  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

1.  29.  hours  of  colleges,  these  were  the  hours  at  which  the 
people  of  the  Tudor  period  ate  their  chief  meals  ;  a  period  at 
which  a  number  of  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge  colleges  were 
founded.  In  Norman  times  breakfast  was  at  nine  and  dinner  at 
eleven  o'clock. 

1.  30.  hours  of  the  whole  nation.  In  Steele's  day  the  ordinary 
dinner-hour  with  people  of  good  position  was  two  o'clock,  but 
the  fashionable  class  was  beginning  to  adopt  three,  four,  and  five 
as  the  hours  ;  and  even  seven  was  not  considered  too  late.  In 
the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  to  which  period  Isaac 
Bickerstajf's  memory  almost  carries  him,  twelve  was  the  time  for 
dinner,  and  to  this  older  custom  he  alludes  in  11.  3  and  4,  p.  21. 

1.  33.  Westminster-hall,  the  great  hall  originally  erected  by 
William  Rufus  in  1097,  and  rebuilt  by  Richard  II.  in  1397  as  the 
dining-hall  of  the  royal  palace  of  Westminster.  The  palace 
itself  existed  as  early  as  the  time  of  Canute,  and  was  enlarged  by 
subsequent  kings,  notably  by  Edward  the  Confessor  and  William 
the  Conqueror.  It  was  partly  burned  down  on  three  occasions, 
in  1263,  1299,  and  in  1512,  when  it  finally  fell  into  ruins.  The 
roof  beams  of  the  great  hall,  tradition  says,  are  made  of  Irish 
oak  brought  from  the  woods  of  Shillelagh,  Co.  Wicklow. 

When  William  Rufus  used  to  go  to  dinner  in  it,  i.e.  at  eleven 
o'clock,  the  hour  for  dinner  in  Norman  times.     See  note,  1.  29. 

P.  21,  1.  3.  In  my  own  memory.  We  must  remember  that 
Isaac.  Bickerstajf,  when  The  Tatler  started,  in  1709,  is  supposed 
to  have  been  sixty-four  years  of  age. 

1.  15.  Lucian,  a  Greek  satirist  and  wit  of  the  second  century 
after  Christ.  Steele's  allusion  is  to  a  work  of  his  known  as 
Judicium  Vocalium,  in  which  he  represents  the  encroachment  of 
the  letter  T  on  other  letters,  chiefly  on  S,  in  such  words  as  a-fjiJ&pov, 
-irpdaaw,  CTVKOV,  which  afterwards  came  to  be  spelled  Tr)fj.epov, 
TrpaTTu,  TVKOV.  Addison  published  a  little  work  on  these  lines, 
The  Humble  Petition  of  '  Which'  and  '  What,'  in  which  he  repre 
sents  these  parts  of  speech  as  protesting  against  the  encroachments 
of  the  relative  that. 

1.  29.  sea-coals,  coals  which  have  been  carried  by  sea  from  the 
collieries,  as  all  coal,  when  practicable,  was  in  those  days.  So 
Mistress  Quickly,  in  Shakspere's  Henri/  IV.,  Part  2,  Act  n.  i.  92, 
when  claiming  her  money  from  Falstaff,  says,  "  thou  didst  swear 
...  sitting  in  my  Dolphin-Chamber,  at  a  round  table,  by  a  ,sea- 
coal  fire." 

P.  22,  1.  7.  implicit,  implied. 



P.  23,  1.  3,  sanguine,  ruddy,  florid. 

1.  4.  diet-drink,  i.  e.  the  regimen  which  he,  as  a  valetudinarian, 
followed,  in  drinking  only  stated  quantities  and  at  fixed  hours. 

1.  12.  Lady  Dainty.     See  note,  p.  27,  1.  9. 

1.  15.  become  her  table,  act  in  a  becoming  and  genteel  way  at 
her  dinner. 

1.  20.  tubes,  i.e.  spy-glasses,  a  short  form  of  telescope.  Opera- 
glasses  had  not  then,  of  course,  been  invented. 

1.  21.  the  pit.  This  part  of  the  theatre  had,  in  Steele's  time, 
become,  from  being  the  cheapest  and  most  unfashionable,  a 
fashionable  place.  In  the  Elizabethan  theatre  there  were  no 
seats  here,  and  it  was  frequented  by  the  commonest  people,  to 
whom  Hamlet  alludes  contemptuously  as  '  the  groundlings. ' 

1.  25.  prig,  a  pert,  conceited  coxcomb  ;  from  A.S.  priccian,  to 
pick  out,  steal ;  hence  one  who  assumes  a  position  to  which  he  is 
not  entitled,  a  pretender,  upstart. 

1.  26.  worn  upon  a  button,  suspended  from  a  button  of  the  coat 
by  a  silk  cord  passed  through  a  hole  near  the  handle  of  the  cane. 

1.  29.  a  Gascon  general.  The  people  of  Gascony  are  said  to 
have  been  exceptionally  boastful,  and  hence  we  get  the  word 
gasconnade,  to  boast,  to  brag.  Readers  of  Dumas'  novel,  The 
Three  Musketeers,  will  remember  the  boastful  and  quarrelsome 
character  of  D'Artagnan,  the  young  Gascon  soldier. 

1.  36.  Before  the  limpers  came  in.  All  these  fashionable  affec 
tations  have  had  their  analogue  in  modern  times,  such  as  '  the 
Alexandra  limp,'  'the  Grecian  bend,'  and  the  affectation  intro 
duced  by  the  late  Lord  Randolph  Churchhill  of  omitting  to 
pronounce  the  final  g  in  such  words  as  singing,  talking,  etc. 

P.  24,  1.  11.  Alexander  the  Great  had  a  wry  neck.  See  Plut 
arch's  Life  of  Alexander:  ''The  statues  that  gave  the  best 
representation  of  Alexander's  person  were  those  of  Lysippus  (by 
whom  alone  he  would  suffer  his  image  to  be  made),  those  pecu 
liarities  which  many  of  his  friends  used  to  affect  to  imitate,  the 
inclination  of  his  head  a  little  on  one  side  towards  his  left  shoulder, 
and  his  melting  eye,  having  been  expressed  by  this  artist  with 
great  exactness." 

1.  14.  so  over  complaisantly,  in  so  exaggerated  a  manner,  in  his 
efforts  to  please. 

1.  20.  in  his  degrees  of  understanding,  as  far  as  his  abilities 

1.  25.  of  the  like  turn,  of  the  same  character. 

23-26.]     FASHIONABLE  AFFECTATIONS.        95 

1.  36.  a  very  fearful  complexion,  a  very  timid  nature  or  dis 
position  ;  complexion  literally  means  an  interweaving  (Lat.  con 
axid- plico),  and  hence,  as  applied  to  a  man's  nature  or  character, 
the  result  of  the  blending  and  intertwining  of  his  characteristics 
and  idiosyncrasies.  The  word  is  now  generally  restricted  to  the 
physical  blendings  of  colour,  texture,  etc.,  which  mark  the  hue 
and  appearance  of  the  face. 

P.  25,  1.  20.  societies  of  ambitious  young  men,  an  ironical 
allusion  to  the  bands  of  riotous  young  men,  who  by  their 
blackguard  conduct  made  the  life  of  the  London  streets  after 
dark,  intolerable.  Chief  amongst  them  were  the  Mohocks,  of 
which  Steele  gives  a  description  in  No.  324  of  the  Spectator. 

1.  24.  blackening  signposts,  i.e.  disfiguring  the  signboards  of  the 
tradesmen.  Addison's  first  contribution  to  The  Taller  (No.  18) 
was  a  protest  against  the  increase  of  signposts  in  the  London 

1.  28.  beaux  esprits,  wits,  used  ironically. 

1.  33.  floor   strewed  with  half-pence ;   one  of  the  pursuits  of 
these  fast  and  rowdy  young  men  was  the  breaking  of  windows  at 
night   by   flinging   half-pence    at   them ;    they  were   known   as 
Nickers,  and  are  referred  to  by  Gay  in  his  poem  of  Trivia  : 
"  His  scattered  pence  the  flying  Nicker  flings, 
And  with  the  copper  sliow'r  the  casement  rings. " 


No.  7. 

P.  26.  This  very  charming  essay  is  one  in  which  Steele  appears 
as  a  man  of  ideas  much  in  advance  of  the  time,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  he  anticipates  the  suggestions  of  another  century  for  a 
more  sensible  system  in  the  education  of  women. 

1.  8.  Enfleld-chase  :  Enfield,  11  miles  north  of  the  London 
General  Post-Office.  Here  in  after  days  Isaac  D'Israeli  was  born, 
and  Keats  and  Captain  Marryat  were  educated.  Charles  and 
Mary  Lamb  lived  here  in  1829  in  a  house  which  the  former 
describes  as  a  " gambogish-coloured  house  at  the  Chase  side." 
The  word  (cf.  Hatfield  Chase,  Cannock  Chase)  in  English 
place-names,  recalls  the  time  when  the  districts  were  forested 
and  the  game  preserved.  Enfield  Chase  was  part  of  the  Great 
Middlesex  forest,  fragments  of  which  still  survive  in  Hyde 
Park  and  High  gate  Woods. 

1.  9.  a  young  lady,  generally  supposed  to  have  been  Elizabeth 
Malyn,  who  afterwards  became  Lady  Cathcart,  by  her  marri;ige 
with  Lord  Cathcart,  her  third  husb;md.  She  subsequently 
married  a  Col.  Maguire  of  Tempo,  a  place  near  Enniskillen.  One 
of  the  conditions  of  this  marriage  was  that  she  should  not  be 


asked  to  live  in  Ireland  ;  but  her  husband,  under  the  pretence  of 
taking  her  for  a  pleasure  excursion  in  a  boat,  carried  her  to  Tempo, 
where  he  kept  her  confined,  and  treated  her  barbarously,  in  order 
to  secure  a  considerable  property  which  she  possessed.  She 
obtained  her  liberty  on  the  death  of  Col.  Maguire.  Her  story 
has  been  embodied  in  Miss  Edgeworth's  novel,  Castle  Rackrent. 

1.  11.  pad,  a  contraction  for  pad-nag,  i.e.  a  small  horse  for  the 
path  or  road.  The  word  still  survives  in  foot-pad,  a  robber  on 
the  high  road. 

well-fancied  furniture,  i.e.  tastefully  designed  trappings. 
So,  in  Hamlet,  Polonius  advises  his  son  Laertes  :  ' '  costly  thy 
habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy,  but  not  expressed  in  fancy,''  i.e. 
without  judgment  or  taste. 

1.  22.  Venus.  The  incident  of  Venus  disguised  as  a  Spartan 
huntress  is  told  in  the  JEneid,  Book  I.,  line  315  and  following 

1.  27.  diverted,  occupied. 

1.  29.  people  of  condition,  of  good  social  position. 

P.  27,  1.  9.  The  Ladies  Cure.  A  comedy  written  by  Colley 
Gibber  in  the  year  1707.  Its  full  title  is  The  Double  Gallant  : 
or  the  Sick  Lady's  Cure.  The  humour  of  the  play  turns  on  the 
successful  efforts  of  her  friends  to  cure  the  affectation  of  Lady 
Dainty,  who  considers  it  fashionable  to  cultivate  delicacy,  for 
as  she  says,  "  to  be  always  in  health  is  as  vulgar  as  to  be  always 
in  humour,  and  would  equally  betray  one's  want  of  wit  and 
breeding."  See  reference  to  Lady  Dainty,  p.  23,  1.  12. 

1.  19.  dispensary  of  a  toilet,  i.e.  all  the  various  scents  and 
cosmetics  which  constituted  the  toilet  requisites  of  a  fashionable 
lady  of  Steele's  time.  Pope  (Rape  of  the  Lock,  Canto  I., 
11.  121-138)  describes  in  humorous  verses  the  toilet  of  Belinda, 
the  heroine  of  the  poem  : 

"  And  now  unveil'd  the  toilet  stands  display 'd, 
Each  silver  vase  in  mystic  order  laid. 

This  casket  India's  glowing  gems  unlocks 
And  all  Arabia  breathes  from  yonder  box. 
The  Tortoise  here  and  Elephant  unite, 
Transform'd  to  combs  the  speckled  and  the  white ; 
Here  files  of  pins,  extend  their  shining  rows, 
Puffs,  Powders,  Patches,  Bibles,  Billet-doux." 

1.  26.  becoming  negligence  in  her  dress :  cf,  Herrick,  The 
Poetry  of  Dress : 

"  A  sweet  disorder  in  the  dress 
Kindles  in  clothes  a  wantonness." 

P.  28,  1.  10.  spleen,    melancholy,  depression  of  spirits.     The 

26-31.]       ADVICE  TO  LADIES  ON  EXERCISE.  97 

vapours,  humours,  and  spleen  were  little  ailments  from  which  the 
fashionable  people  of  the  time  appear  to  have  suffered  much,  to 
judge  from  the  constant  references  to  them  in  eighteenth  century 
literature,  and  were  chiefly  traceable  to  the  idleness  inseparable 
from  fashionable  leisure.  The  word  spleen  is  from  the  Greek 
<nr\rjv  (pronounced  splen),  a  small  gland  which  according  to 
ancient  belief  was  the  seat  of  melancholy. 

1.  17.  notable  woman,  one  skilled  in  household  matters.  The 
word  is  pronounced  with  a  short  o  sound. 

1.  35.  oaf,  a  fool,  a  simpleton.  The  word  is  a  form  of  elf. 
Chaucer  speaks  of  a  simple  person  as  being  elvish.  Cf.  Gold 
smith,  She  Stoops  to  Conquer:  "You  great  ill-fashioned  oaf, 
with  scarce  sense  enough  to  keep  your  mouth  shut. " 

P.  29,  1.  9.  a  Female  Library.  In  the  year  1714  Steele  actually 
carried  out  this  project  in  publishing  a  book  in  three  volumes, 
entitled  The  Ladies'  Library.  It  consists  of  a  series  of  selections 
from  the  works  of  various  religious  and  educational  writers, 
such  as  Jeremy  Taylor,  Tillotson,  and  Locke.  To  each  of  the 
volumes  he  prefixed  a  dedication,  and  throughout  the  work 
introduced  explanatory  notes.  The  third  volume  is  dedicated  to 
his  wife  in  a  very  interesting  and  noble  preface.  The  sources  of 
the  materials  are  not  acknowledged,  but  have  since  been  traced, 
with  few  exceptions. 

1.  14.  impertinent,  unseemly.     See  note  p.  3,  1.  13. 

ON  LADIES'   DRESS.     No.  8. 

P.  30,  1.  9.  infect,  i.e.  affect  harmfully,  spoil,  destroy. 

1.  10.  cast,  tinge,  shade  of  colour.  Cf.  Hamlet,  m.  i.  :  "The 
native  hue  of  resolution  is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of 

water,  the  lustre  of  a  diamond. 

1.  11.  ladies  in  mourning.  The  English  court  went  into 
mourning  at  this  time  for  Louis,  the  son  of  the  Dauphin,  who 
died  March  3,  1710. 

P.  31,  1.  9.  flowered  stomacher,  a  wide  embroidered  belt. 
furbelow,    a  flounce.     The  origin  of  the  word  is  unknown, 
but  it  appears  in  Spanish  and  Italian  as/ar&e/a,  of  which  our 
word  would  appear  to  be  a  corruption.     The  ladies'  dresses  of 
the  period  were  flounced  to  the  waist. 

1.  23.  tippet,  a  band  of  cloth  or  fur  for  the  neck. 

1.  24.  farthingale,  a  petticoat  extended  by  hoops.  The  word 
is  a  corruption  of  the  Old  French  rerdugal/e,  from  the  Spanish 
lerdurjo,  a  young  shoot  or  rod,  which  might  be  bent  easily  to 


form  a  hoop.  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  (Spectator,  No.  109),  allud 
ing  to  this  extraordinary  fashion,  says:  "My  grandmother 
appears  as  if  she  stood  in  a  large  drum. " 

1.  27.  toy-shop,  where  knick-knacks  were  sold,  as  in  the  shops 
of  Charles  Lillie  and  Charles  Mathers,  referred  to  in  Essay  No. 
13.  See  note,  p.  50,  11.  23,  26. 

P.  32,  1.  3.  shoulder-knot,  a  fashion  first  adopted  by  men  in 
the  time  of  Charles  II.,  consisting  of  a  bunch  of  ribbons  or  lace 
worn  on  the  shoulder. 

1.  5.  fringed  gloves,  i.e.  with  silver  fringe  round  the  wrists  of 
the  gloves. 

1.  7.  open  waistcoat.     See  note  on  p.  u,  1.  35. 

1.  9.  A  Grecian  hero.  The  reference  is  to  Themistocles,  who, 
when  a  boy,  refused  to  learn  any  accomplishments.  When,  in 
after  years,  he  was  asked  whether  he  could  play  on  the  lute,  he 
retorted  "that  he  certainly  could  not  make  use  of  any  stringed 
instrument,  but  could  only,  were  a  small  city  put  into  his  hands, 
make  it  great  and  glorious"  (Plutarch's  Life,  of  Themistocles, 
Dryden's  Trans.). 

1.  9.  a  pair  of  red  heels,  a  reference  to  the  fashion  of  having 
shoes  made  with  crimson-coloured  heels. 

1.  19.  gewgaws,  toys,  playthings.  The  word  is  etymologically 
connected  with  give,  and  is  a  reduplicated  form  of  the  A.-S.  gifu, 
a  gift  (Skeat). 

1.  35.  sarsenet  or  sarcenet,  a  kind  of  thin  silk  of  Eastern  origin, 
so  called  from  the  Saracens,  the  old  name  for  the  people  of  the 
Eastern  Mediterranean. 

P.  33,  1.  1.  latter  spring.  This  expression  occurs  in  Henry 
IV.,  Part  1,  i.  ii.,  where  Prince  Hal,  addressing  Falstaff,  says : 

"  Farewell,  thou  latter  spring!  farewell,  All-hallow'n  summer  !" 

1.  2.  a  colt's  tooth  in  her  head,  i.e.  in  her  old  age  she  again 
acquired  a  taste  for  youthful  pleasures.  Thus  we  speak  of  a 
person  fond  of  sweetmeats  as  having  a  sweet  tooth. 

1.  10.  Eutrapelus,  a  character  in  Horace's  Epistles  (i.  18) : 
"  There  was  one  Eutrapelus,  who,  if  he  wanted  to  do  a  man  a 
mischief,  would  send  him  costly  dresses ;  for  he  knew  that  the 
silly,  happy  fool  would,  with  new  dresses,  assume  forthwith  new 
notions  and  new  hopes. " 

1.  14.  simplex  munditiis.  See  Horace,  Odes,  Bk.  i.  5,  where 
the  poet  asks  Pyrrha,  one  of  his  old  loves  :  ' '  GUI  flavam  relic/as 
comam,  simplex  munditiis  ?"  '  Who  now  will  bind  thy  golden 
locks  neat  and  elegant  without  the  aid  of  art  or  effort  ? '  The 

Ehrase  is  difficult  to  render  in  English,  which  Milton,  who  trans 
ited  this  ode,  gives  as  '  plain  in  thy  neatness. ' 

31-35.]  THE  TRUMPET  CLUB  AND  ITS  MEMBERS.      99 


P.  33, 1.  24.  easy ...  companions,  such  as  demand  no  mental  effort 
in  the  entertaining  of  them. 

P.  34,  1.  1.  preparative,  preparation. 

1.  2.  abstractions,  the  higher  regions  of  thought. 
traces,  tracts,  paths. 

1.  10.  the  Trumpet,  the  well-known  Trumpet  Tavern,  in  Shire 
Lane,  Fleet  Street.  The  place  was  originally  a  coffee-house,  The 
Cat  and  Fiddle,  kept  by  one  Christopher  Katt,  a  pastry-cook. 
Here  the  famous  Kit-Kat  Club  held  its  meetings,  having  acquired 
its  title  from  a  humorous  distortion  of  the  proprietor's  name. 
It  was  subsequently  changed  to  Duke  of  York  Tavern. 

1.  15.  in  arbitrary  times,  during  the  troubled  period  of  the 
latter  portion  of  the  seventeenth  century,  associated  with  the 
change  from  the  Stuart  to  the  Orange  dynasty. 

1.  29.  run  it  out,  i.e.  ran  through  his  fortune  by  indulging  his 
taste  for  hunting  and  cock-fighting. 

1.  36.  Marston  Moor,  fought  July  4, 1644,  when  the  Parliamentary 
army,  under  Cromwell,  defeated  the  Royalists,  commanded  by  the 
Marquis  of  Newcastle  and  Prince  Rupert.  At  this  time  there 
were  many  noisy  frequenters  of  the  coffee-houses  who  claimed  to 
have  fought  in  the  Civil  Wars.  They  were  known  as  "  Rufflers." 

P.  35,  1.  1.  rising  of  the  London  apprentices.  This  event 
occurred  in  1647,  when  they  forced  their  way  into  the  House 
of  Commons  with  a  petition  for  redress  of  grievances.  These 
apprentices  were  the  boys  and  young  men  in  the  employ  of  the 
great  London  commercial  companies,  such  as  the  Fishmongers, 
Goldsmiths,  Haberdashers,  etc.,  which  sprang  into  existence  in 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  In  early  Elizabethan  days  the  appren 
tices  were  distinguished  by  wearing  "blue  cloaks  in  summer, 
and  blue  gowns  in  winter,  with  breeches  and  stockings  of  white 
broad  cloth  and  flat  hats"  (Stow,  Survey  of  London).  They 
entered  upon  their  apprenticeship  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  having 
previously  received  their  education  at  the  free  schools  of  the 
Companies,  and  were  for  the  rest  of  their  lives  looked  after  by 
their  employers.  For  an  interesting  account  of  the  London 
apprentices  in  the  time  of  James  I.,  see  Scott's  Fortunes  ofXi<i<l, 
and  as  an  illustration  of  their  power  in  the  cities,  the  historical 
action  of  the  apprentices  at  the  Siege  of  Derry  will  readily 

1.  13.  bencher  of  a  neighbouring  inn,  a  senior  member  of  an 
Inn  of  Court,  such  as  Lincoln's  Inn  and  Gray's  Inn,  London,  and 
King's  Inn,  Dublin.  The  benchers  of  an  Inn  of  Court  make  all 
the  necessary  regulations  for  the  government  of  the  body  to 

100  NOTES.  [PAGES 

which  they  belong,  and  have  the  power  to  admit  to  the  Bar. 
The  title  of  Bencher  is  derived  from  the  raised  benches  upon 
which  they  sit  in  Hall. 

1.  14.  ordinaries,  taverns  where  a  regular  meal  or  table  d'hdte 
was  served  at  an  ordinary  or  customary  hour.  The  word  was 
originally  applied  to  the  meal  itself ;  e.g.  Tatler  No.  135 : 
"When  I  was  a  young  man  about  this  town,  I  frequented  the 
ordinary  of  the  Black  Horse  in  Holborn." 

Charing  Cross.  This  locality  preserves  in  its  name  the  memory 
of  the  old  village  of  Charryng,  a  word  which  some  derive  from 
A.-S.  cerran,  to  turn  (from  its  situation  at  the  tumor  bend  of  th3 
Thames),  and  others  consider  to  be  a  corruption  of  la  chere 
Reim,  the  village  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  The  present  cross  was 
erected  in  1865  in  place  of  the  original  one,  placed  there  by 
Edward  I.  in  1290,  and  destroyed  by  the  Puritans  in  1647.  The 
original  cross  marked  the  spot  where  the  body  of  Queen  Eleanor 
rested  for  the  fifteenth  and  last  time  during  its  progress  from 
Hornby,  near  Lincoln,  where  she  had  died,  to  Westminster 
Abbey,  each  resting-place  having  been  sanctified  by  a  similar 

1.  15.  Jack  Ogle,  a  noted  duellist  and  gambler.  It  is  told  of 
him  that  on  one  occasion  he  lost  his  military  cloak,  having  staked 
it  at  play,  and  that  he  actually  appeared  on  the  parade  ground, 
when  his  troop  was  mustered,  with  his  landlady's  red  flannel 
petticoat  as  a  substitute.  This  incident  is  referred  to  below, 
p.  36,  1.  2. 

ten  distichs  of  Hudibras,  i.e.  ten  couplets  from  the  famous 
mock-heroic  poem  written  by  Samuel  Butler  (1612-1680)  as  a 
satire  upon  the  sects  of  the  Presbyterians  and  Independents 
amongst  the  Parliamentary  party  during  the  civil  wars.  It  was 
a  favourite  poem  with  Charles  II.  A  distich  is  a  verse  of  two 

1.  21.  I  am  something  respected,  I  am  somewhat,  or  to  a 
certain  extent,  respected. 

1.  32.  battle  of  Naseby,  fought  June  14,  1645,  when  the 
Royalists,  commanded  by  Charles  I.  and  Prince  Rupert,  were 
defeated  by  the  Parliamentarians  under  Cromwell  and  Fairfax. 

1.  36.  introduce  the  couplet,  etc.     The  verse  referred  to  is  the 
well-known  one  in  Hudibras,  Part  I. ,  Canto  i. ,  1.  11: 
"  And  Pulpit,  Drum  Ecclesiastic, 
Was  beat  with  fist,  instead  of  a  Stick," 

in  which  Butler  describes  the  noisy  preachers  amongst  the  Parlia 
mentary  party. 

P.  36,  1.  2.  red  petticoat  and  a  cloak.     See  note,  p.  35,  1.  15. 


1.  8.  to  be  obliged  by  those,  etc.,  to  consider  myself  as  under 
an  obligation  to  those  who  endeavour  to  oblige  me,  to  be  indebted 
to  ;  cf .  "  to  those  hills  we  are  obliged  for  all  our  metals  "  (Bentley). 

1.  18.  Edge-hill  fight,  the  indecisive  battle  of  Edgehill,  near 
Kineton,  Warwickshire,  fought  October  23,  1642,  between  the 
Royalists  and  Parliamentarians. 

1.26.  my  maid  came  with  a  lantern.  This  proceeding  was  very 
necessary  in  the  days  of  Mr.  Bickerstajf,  as  no  effective  method 
of  lighting  the  streets  had  been  devised  ;  a  few  miserable  oil 
lamps,  at  considerable  distances  apart,  were  all  that  the  citizens 
of  London  had  to  rely  on  for  guidance  through  the  ill-paved 
streets,  then  infested  by  highwaymen.  In  the  year  1736  one 
thousand  street  lamps  alone  supplied  the  public  with  light  over 
the  whole  of  London.  We  must  also  remember  that  there  was 
no  systematic  scavenging  of  the  streets,  and  so  heaps  of  refuse 
and  pools  of  stagnant  water  constituted  serious  dangers  to  the 

1.  30.  venerable,  respected. 

1.  35.  a  long  Canterbury  Tale,  i.e.  a  tale  as  long  as  one  of  those 

told  by  a  pilgrim  in  Geoffrey  Chaucer's  famous  Canterbury  Tales. 

P.  37,  1.  5.  magazine,  a  store-house.     Addison,  in  reference  to 

Westminster  Abbey,   speaks  of  it  as   "  this  great  magazine  of 

mortality  "  (Spectator  No.  26). 

1.  14.  Nestor  was  King  of  Pylos  and  Messenia,  and  one  of  the 
heroes  of  the  Trojan  War.     Homer  describes  him  as  the  greatest 
of  the  generals  of  that  struggle.     He  lived  to  be  ninety  years  of 
age,  and  was  famous  and  respected  for  the  wisdom  which  a  life 
of  wide  experience  had  given  him.     Pope  translates  the  lines  of 
Homer  in  which  the  eloquence  of  Nestor  is  described,  thus  : 
"  Experienc'd  Nestor,  in  persuasion  skill'd, 
Words  sweet  as  honey  from  his  lips  distill  *d." 

Pope's  Homer,  Book  I. 

1.  19.  an  eloquent  spirit.  This  is  a  reference  to  Milton's  lines 
descriptive  of  the  fallen  angel  Belial  ( Paradise  Lost,  Bk.  n. ,  1.  112): 

"His  tongue 

Dropt  manna,  and  could  make  the  worse  appear 
The  better  reason,  to  perplex  and  dash 
Maturest  counsels." 

ON  THE  LOTTERY.     No.    10. 

P.  37,  1.  29.  Cheapside,  known  as  '  Chepe '  in  earlier  days,  the 
main  thoroughfare  between  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  and  the  Bank  of 
England  ;  so  called  from  the  great  cheap  (A.-S.  cedpian,  '  to  buy') 

102  NOTES.  [PAGES 

or  market  established  in  this  district  in  very  early  times.  So  far 
back  as  the  fourteenth  century  it  was  a  recognized  place  of  trade, 
for  John  Lydgate,  the  monk  of  Bury,  in  his  curious  work, 
The.  London  Lickpenny,  describes,  when  on  a  visit  to  London, 

"  Then  to  the  Chepe  I  began  me  drawne 
Where  moch  people  I  saw  for  to  stand. 
One  offred  me  velvet,  sylke,  and  lawne  ; 
An  other  he  taketh  me  by  the  hande, 
*  Here  is  Parys  thread,  the  finest  in  the  land. '  " 
In  this  street  stood  the  famous  Mermaid  Tavern  in  which  Shak- 
spere,    Ben  Jonson,    Sir  Walter   Raleigh,  and  others,  met  as 
members  of  a  club  which  they  had  established  in  1603. 

1.  30.  The  Bank,  i.e.  the  Bank  of  England  in  Threadneedle  St., 
humorously  known  as  'the  Old  Lady  of  Threadneedle  St.' 
This,  the  largest  establishment  of  its  kind  in  the  world,  was 
founded  in  1694,  on  a  plan  projected  by  Mr.  Patterson,  a  Scotch 

P.  38,  1.  1.  the  new-erected  lottery,  i.e.  the  first  State  lottery 
of  the  year  1710.  Steele,  in  two  other  Tatlers  (Nos.  170  and 
203),  gives  full  details  of  the  public  lotteries  of  the  time,  and 
Addison  (Spectator  No.  191)  gives  a  very  amusing  account  of  the 
incidents  of  one.  These  should  be  read  in  this  connection.  The 
first  State  lottery  was  established  by  Queen  Elizabeth  in  1567, 
with  the  object  of  raising  money  for  the  construction  of  harbours 
and  other  piiblic  works,  when  the  shares  were  ten  shillings  each, 
and  the  prizes  of  various  kinds,  such  as  "money,  plate,  and 
certain  sorts  of  merchandise."  The  spirit  of  gambling  was  so 
encouraged  by  this  device  that  at  last  the  Government  abolished 
them  in  1826.  They  still  exist  in  some  Continental  countries. 

1.  2.  our  present  government  and  administration.  The  Whigs, 
headed  by  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  and  Lord  Godolphin,  were 
in  office  in  January,  1710,  when  this  Essay  was  written.  In 
February  the  trial  of  Dr.  Sacheverell  (see  Essay  13  and  Notes) 
for  his  attack  upon  the  Government  took  place,  and  in  August 
Godolphin  was  compelled  to  resign. 

1.  10.  burden  of  the  war,  i.e.  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession, 
in  which  the  Allies,  viz. ,  the  Emperor,  the  States  of  Holland,  and 
England,  united  to  check  the  ambition  of  Louis  XIV.  of  France. 
The  war  closed  with  the  Peace  of  Utrecht  in  1713. 

1.  16.  lay  in  my  pretences,  etc.,  i.e.  if  I  did  not  stake  some 
thing  when  claiming  her  favour  ;  lay  =  to  stake. 

1.  17.  recommending1,  entrusting. 

1.  19.  globes  and  a  telescope,  instruments  which  Isaac  Sicker- 
staff,  as  an  astrologer,  would  naturally  possess.  See  note, 
Essay  I. ,  p.  4,  1.  3. 

37-40.]  ON  THE  LOTTERY.  103 

1.  22.  an  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  to  one.  The  conditions 
of  this  State  Lottery  of  1710,  known  as  '  the  Million  Lottery,' 
were  as  follows  :  tickets  to  the  number  of  150,000  were  issued  at 
£10  each  ;  every  purchaser  was  entitled  to  nine  per.  cent,  per 
annum  for  32  years,  in  addition  to  his  chance  of  one  of  the  3750 
prizes,  varying  from  £1000  to  £5.  Even  those  who  were 
unsuccessful  received  14/-  per  annum  for  32  years  for  each  blank 
drawn.  This  will  explain  Isaac  Bicker  staff '  s  calculations,  and  the 
allusion,  p.  39,  1.  15,  to  the  settlement  of  14/-  per  annum  on  his 

1.  24.  plumb,  now  generally  spelled  plum,  a  sum  of  £100,000; 
the  expression  is  here  equivalent  to  '  wealthy  man. '  The  origin 
of  the  word  is  unknown. 

1.  29.  Mr.  Morphew,  at  whose  shop  near  Stationers'  Hall  The 
Tatler  was  sold,  and  who  received  advertisements  for  insertion 
in  the  paper. 

to  subscribe  such  a  policy,  i.e.  to  sign  such  an  undertaking  or 

1.  32.  twinkling  of  a  ...  star.     See  note,  p.  4,  1.  3. 

1.  36.  Seneca  ;  Lucius  Annasus  Seneca,  the  Latin  philosophic 
writer,  who  was  born  at  Cordova  early  in  the  first  century  of  the 
Christian  era.  He  was  for  four  years  preceptor  to  Nero,  but  his 
good  advice  failed  in  the  case  of  that  infamous  man.  Having 
fallen  under  the  suspicion  of  the  emperor,  he  was  commanded  to 
destroy  himself,  which  he  proceeded  to  do  by  opening  a  vein  ; 
this  method  failing,  he  drank  a  dose  of  poison,  but  that  too 
failing,  he  was  suffocated. 

P.  39,  1.  10.  Palatines,  the  name  given  to  the  German  settlers 
in  England. 

1.  14.  revenue  arising  out  of  the  ten  pounds,  the  price  of  one 
share  in  the  lottery.  See  note,  p.  38,  1.  22. 

1.  24.  furnish  out,  supply.     See  Hamlet,  Act  i.,  scene  ii.,  180  : 
"  .     .     .     the  funeral  baked  meats 
Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  table." 

1.  26.  Several  in  liveries,  i.e.  servants. 

'  1.  27.  who  will  give  as  good  of  their  own  very  suddenly,  i.e. 
who  will  be  in  position  to  give  estates  away  by  their  sudden 
acquisition  of  wealth. 

1.  31.  my  art,  my  skill  as  an  astrologer.  See  Essay  1,  Note, 
p.  4,  1.  3. 

ten  months,  the  time  which  would  elapse  before  the  drawing 
of  the  lottery,  which  took  place  at  Michaelmas,  1710,  this  Essay 
being  dated  in  January  of  that  year. 

P.  40,  1.  5.  proper,  suitable. 

104  NOTES.  [PAGES 

1.  9.  penny  lottery:  this  lottery  was  drawn  in  1699,  when 
tickets  at  one  penny  each  were  issued  for  a  single  prize  of 
£1000.  The  drawing  took  place  at  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Dorset 

1.  26.  allow,  admit,  acknowledge.  Cf.  Pope,  Essay  on 
Criticism  ; 

"  The  power  of  music  all  our  hearts  allow, 
And  what  Timotheus  was,  is  Dryden  now." 

P.  41,  1.  2.  Mr.  Partridge,  the  almanac  maker,  whose  death  did 
not  actually  occur  until  1714.  This  reference  to  his  being  'dead 
and  buried '  is  but  to  keep  up  the  jest  originated  by  Dean  Swift. 
See  Introduction. 

1.  14.  arise,  give  rise  to,  produce. 

ON  DUELLING.     No.    11. 

P.  42,  1.  20.  A  duel.  This  essay  is  the  first  of  seven  contribu 
tions  to  The  Tatler,  in  which  Steele  showed  his  true  manliness  in 
protesting  against  the  prevailing  custom  of  deciding  quarrels  by 
having  recourse  to  sword  or  pistol.  It  is  known  that  in  early 
life,  probably  while  in  the  army,  Steele,  after  every  honourable 
effort  to  avoid  it,  fought  a  duel,  in  which  he  had  the  misfortune 
dangerously  to  wound  a  young  man  who  had  challenged  him. 
From  that  time  out  he  seized  every  opportunity  to  denounce  the 
practice.  The  other  six  essays  on  this  subject  are  Tatlers  Nos. 
26,  28,  29,  31,  38,  and  39. 

1.  24.  from  hence,  i.e.  from  White's  Chocolate-House.  See 
note  p.  2,  1.  3. 

1.  27.  chimerical,  imaginary,  and  hence  wild  ;  from  the  Greek 
xi/j.cupa  (chirnsera),  a  she-goat.  The  Chimsera  was  an  imaginary 
monster,  with  the  body  of  a  goat,  the  fore  part  of  a  lion,  and  the 
hinder  part  of  a  dragon,  destroyed  by  the  hero  Bellerophon 
mounted  on  the  winged  horse  Pegasus. 

1.  29.  pretences,  claims. 

P.  43,  1.  6.  rapier,  a  long,  light  sword. 

1.  25.  denominates,  marks,  or  is  characteristic  of. 

1.  26.  a  common  sharper.  The  coffee-houses  and  taverns  of 
the  eighteenth  century  were  infested  with  swindlers,  whom  the 
prevalent  habit  of  gambling  attracted  to  these  haunts.  There  are 
constant  allusions  in  the  literature  of  the  time  to  these  gentry 
under  the  slang  names  of  Rooks,  Pads,  Huffs,  Rufflers,  etc. 

1.  35.  hereafter  consider,  etc.  Steele  does  not  appear  to  have 
fulfilled  this  intention. 

4046.]  ON  DUELLING.  105 

P.  44,  1.  3.  imposture,  something  imposed  or  thrust  upon  us. 

1.  8.  proper  cuts,  suitable  illustrations. 

1.  22,  Hyde-park,  one  of  the  great  London  parks.  The  origin 
of  the  name  carries  us  back  to  very  early  times.  There  were 
two  ancient  manors,  known  as  Neyte  and  Hyde,  attached  as 
lands  to  the  Abbey  of  Westminster,  which,  after  the  dissolution 
of  the  monasteries,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  became  Crown 
lands.  The  present  Hyde  Park  represents  the  latter  of  these 
manors ;  the  neighbouring  Knightsbridge  is  a  corruption  of 
Neytesbridge.  Hyde  Park  is  a  portion  of  the  great  Middlesex 

ON  THE  ART  OF  GROWING  OLD.     No.  12. 

P.  45,  1.  5.  "The  Art  of  Living  and  Dying,"  an  allusion  to 
Jeremy  Taylor's  works  on  Holy  Living  and  Holy  Dying.  Taylor, 
afterwards  Bishop  of  Down,  Connor,  and  Dromore,  and  Vice- 
Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Dublin,  was  the  son  of  a  barber 
in  Cambridge,  and  was  born  in  1613.  He  was  educated  in  the 
Grammar  School  and  afterwards  in  Caius  College,  where  he  was 
a  contemporary  of  Milton,  George  Herbert,  Edmund  Waller, 
and  Thomas  Fuller. 

1.  7.  pretensions,  claims. 

1.  21.  their  parts,  i.e.  the  parts  they  play  in  the  drama  of  life. 
This  comparison  of  man's  life  with  the  play  upon  the  stage  is 
common  with  writers,  the  well-known  speech  of  the  melancholy 
Jaques,  beginning:  "  All  the  world's  a  stage,  and  all  the  men 
and  women  merely  players  "  (As  You  Like  It,  u.  vi.  142)  being 
a  case  in  point. 

1.  25.  coxcombs.  The  word  is  a  corruption  of  cock's  comb,  which 
the  professional  fool  was  accustomed  to  wear  in  his  cap,  and 
hence  the  word  was  applied  to  a  conceited  dunce  (Century 

P.  46,  1.  2.  Sam  Trusty.  Under  this  name  Steele  is  supposed 
to  allude  to  a  certain  intimate  friend  of  his,  one  Jabez  Hughes, 
whose  "brother,  John  Hughes,  is  said  to  have  been  the  author  of 
several  letters  in  The  Taller,  notably  one  in  No.  73  signed  Will 

1.  8.  dotard,  an  old  man  imbecile  through  age ;  from  the 
French  radoter,  to  rave,  wander  in  mind.  The  termination  -ard 
is  characteristic  of  a  series  of  similar  words,  invariably  employed 
in  a  contemptuous  sense,  such  as  coward,  sluggard,  wizard,  etc. 

1.10.  '  after-life. '  Isaac  Bickerstaff  employs  this-  phrase  in  the 
sense  of  the  latter  years  of  life  after  youth  is  passed.  In  No. 
306  of  The  Spectator,  a  young  lady  who  has  been  disfigured  by 

106  NOTES.  [PAGES 

small-pox  writes  deploring  her  fate,  and  says :  "  Consider  the 
woman  I  was  did  not  die  of  old  age,  but  I  was  taken  off  in  the 
prime  of  youth,  and  according  to  the  course  of  nature  may  have 
forty  years  after-life,  to  come." 

1.  20.  in  her  teens,  the  years  of  life  from  thirteen  to  nineteen 
inclusive,  so  called  from  the  termination  -teen  in  these  words. 

1.  21.  cronies,  old  gossiping  women.  The  word  is  formed 
from  the  Celtic  crone,  an  old  woman,  and  that  again  is  from  the 
Irish  word  crion,  withered,  old  (Skeat). 

1.  23.  genius,  disposition,  character.  In  the  expression  '  evil 
genius,'  a  few  lines  below,  the  word  is  employed  in  the  sense  of 
a  spirit. 

1.  33.  to  be  denied,  i.e.  that  admission  should  be  denied  or 
refused  to  visitors,  she  being  'not  at  home'  to  friends  at  that 

1.  34.  the  black  boy.  The  employment  of  negroes  as  servants 
was  at  this  time  common  in  England.  We  must  remember  that 
slavery  still  existed,  and  that  not  until  the  year  1772  was  the 
sale  of  a  negro  made  illegal.  It  is  therefore  not  surprising  to 
find  the  following  among  the  advertisements  in  the  Tatler :  "A 
black  Indian  boy,  twelve  years  of  age,  fit  to  wait  on  a  gentle 
man,  to  be  disposed  of  at  Dennis's  Coffee-house,  in  Finch  Lane, 
near  the  Royal  Exchange."  There  is  an  interesting  letter,  pur 
porting  to  have  been  written  by  a  black  boy,  in  Tatler  No.  245 

P.  47,  1.  2.  indented,  irregular. 

1.  14.  hugely,  greatly.  In  Spectator  No.  108,  Will  Wimble, 
writing  to  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  describes  how  Sir  John 
Wimble's  eldest  son,  at  school  at  Eton,  ' '  takes  to  his  learning 

1.  17.  opera-night.     See  note,  p.  57,  1.  35. 

1.  23.  Brazen  Nose,  now  spelled  'Brasenose,'  the  Oxford 
College,  founded  in  1509.  The  popular  derivation  of  the  name 
connects  it  with  the  beak-shaped  brazen  knocker  over  the  main 
entrance,  but  it  probably  gains  its  title  from  the  Hall  of  the 
College  having  been  originally  a  brew-house,  and  the  word  a 
corruption  of  bracinum-house,  from  Latin  bracinum,  malt. 

1.  28.  shock  dog,  a  rough  coated  dog.  The  word  shock  is  ety- 
mologically  connected  with  shaggy.  In  Pope's  Rape,  of  the,  Lock, 
Shock  is  the  name  of  Belinda's  dog  : 

"     .     .     .     when  Shock,  who  thought  she  slept  too  long, 

Leap'd  up,  and  wak'd  his  mistress  with  his  tongue." 
The  word  was  also  spelled  shouyh,  as  in  Macbeth,   in.  i.   94 : 
"  shoughs,  water-rugs,  and  demi-wolves." 

1.  31.  mantel-tree,  the  beam  which  supports  the  brick-work 

46-43.]          ON  THE  ART  OF  GROWING  OLD.  107 

above  a  fire-place,  and  projects,  forming  a  mantel  or  covering 
over  the  grate ;  tree,  in  older  English,  had  the  meaning  of 
wood,  timber. 

1.  32.  lambetive  electuary,  a  compound  of  honey,  sugar,  and 
other  sweet  substances,  in  which  medicines  could  be  concealed, 
made  palatable,  and  thus  licked  up,  without  being  detected. 
Lambative  or  lambetive  is  from  the  Lat.  lambo,  to  lick,  and 
c/t'cf'iiary,  from  the  Greek  exAei'xw  (pron.  ekliko),  to  lick  up;  the 
phrase  is  therefore  redundant. 

1.  33.  stick  of  liquorice,  used  for  the  relief  of  coughs  and  colds, 
or  for  the  removal  of  the  unpleasant  taste  of  medicines  from 
the  mouth.  Liquorice,  or  more  correctly  licorice,  is  prepared  from 
the  juice  of  a  leguminous  plant  largely  grown  on  the  Continent, 
especially  in  Spain.  It  is  also  cultivated  in  one  or  two  English 
localities,  particularly  at  Pontefract  in  Yorkshire,  which  is  an 
important  centre  for  the  importation  and  manufacture  of  licorice, 
whence  it  gets  its  name  of  'Pomfret  cake.'  The  word  is  derived 
from  the  Greek  J\VKVS  (pron.  glukus),  sweet,  and  pifa  (pron.  riza), 
root.  The  roots  are  first  crushed  in  mills  and  then  boiled,  and 
after  evaporation  the  thick,  sweet,  and  somewhat  astringent 
residuum  is  manufactured  into  the  well-known  substance. 

1.  34.  powder  of  tutty.  Tutty  is  an  impure  oxide  of  zinc, 
collected  from  the  chimneys  of  smelting  furnaces  and  used  medi 
cinally  in  soothing  irritated  or  raw  surfaces  on  the  flesh.  The 
word  is  etymologically  connected  with  the  French  toucher,  to 
touch  or  paint  over. 

a  pipe  filled  with  betony  and  colt's-foot.  These  herbs  were 
smoked,  betony  as  a  cure  for  headache  and  colt's-foot  as  a 
specific  for  coughs.  Betony  is  a  woodland  plant  common  in  some 
parts  of  England,  but  rare  in  Ireland.  Colt's-foot  is  the  well- 
known,  yellow-flowered,  large-leaved  plant.  The  botanical 
name,  tussilago,  for  the  latter,  points  to  its  use  ;  from  Lat.  tussis, 
a  cough. 
1.  35.  roll  of  wax-candle,  i.e.  a  roll  of  wax  taper. 

P.  48,  1.  7.  in  a  trice,  instantly ;  a  corruption  of  the  Spanish 
phrase,  en  un  tris,  in  the  brief  moment  occupied  in  snapping  a 
piece  of  glass  (Skeat) ;  commonly  derived  from  the  English  thrice, 
i.e.  while  one  would  count  three. 

1.  15.  sheers,  scissors. 

1.  18.  bob-wig,  a  short  wig,  having  the  ends  of  the  hairs  turned 
up  into  short  curls  or  1><>1>*. 

1.  19.  sea-coal  fire.     See  note,  p.  21,  1.  29. 

1.  31.  the  Hungary  water,  a  perfume  composed  principally  of 
spirits  of  wine,  rosemary,  and  lavender,  and  supposed  to  have 
healing  properties  when  used  as  an  embrocation. 

108  NOTES.  [PAGES 

1.  32.  goldbeaters'  skin,  a  thin  membrane  obtained  from  the 
outer  skin  of  the  intestines  of  the  larger  animals,  and  employed 
by  gold-beaters  to  cover  the  leaves  of  gold  in  the  final  stage  of 
the  process  of  gold-beating. 

P.  49,  1.  2.  make  him  compliments  of  condolence,  offer  him 
expressions  of  sympathy. 


No.  13. 

P.  49,  1.  9.  still  interrupted,  constantly  interrupted. 

"  And  still  they  dream  that  they  shall  still  succeed, 
And  still  are  disappointed."  Coirper. 

1.  11.  cavalier  Nicolini,  a  famous  Italian  opera  singer,  whose 
proper  name  was  Nicolino  Grimaldi.  He  came  to  England  in 
1708,  and  sang  first  in  the  opera  of  Camilla.  He  enjoyed  the 
friendship  of  Addison  and  Steele :  the  latter  gives  him  much 
praise  both  as  an  actor  and  a  singer  (Tatler  No.  115).  He 
appears  to  have  been  a  man  of  high  and  generous  character,  as 
one  would  expect  a  friend  of  Steele  and  of  Addison  to  have  been. 

1.  13.  to  put  off  his  day,  etc.,  i.e.  to  postpone  the  day  upon 
which  he  next  sings  in  opera,  to  enable  them  (the  ladies)  "  to 
employ  their  time  in  the  care  of  the  nation "  by  regularly 
attending  the  trial  of  Dr.  Sacheverell. 

1.  16.  this  day  sevennight,  the  trial  had  been  in  progress  for 
over  a  week.  See  following  note. 

1.  17.  This  great  occasion,  the  occasion  of  the  famous  Sach 
everell  trial,  which  commenced  on  February  27th,  and  closed 
March  23rd,  1710.  Dr.  Sacheverell  was  rector  of  St.  Saviour's 
Church,  Southwark,  and  having  been  appointed  to  preach  before 
the  Lord  Mayor  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  he  seized  the  oppor 
tunity  to  make  a  violent  attack  upon  Lord  Godolphin  and  the 
Government  then  in  power.  He  was  consequently  impeached 
and  brought  to  trial  before  the  peers  in  Westminster  Hall,  and 
finally  suspended  from  preaching  for  three  years,  his  sermon 
being  burned  by  the  common  hangman.  Popular  feeling  was 
entirely  in  sympathy  with  Sacheverell,  and  the  Government  was 
shortly  afterwards  compelled  to  resign. 

1.  18.  of  high  moment,  of  great  importance. 

1.  19.  toast,  a  reigning  beauty.     See  note,  p.  12,  1.  11. 

1.  22.  ancient  hours  of  eating.  See  notes,  Essay  5,  p.  20, 
11.  29,  30,  33. 

48-51.]  THE  SACHEVERELL  TRIAL.  109 

1.  29.  that  awful  court,  i.e.  the  House  of  Lords  sitting  in 
Westminster  Hall ;  awful,  imposing,  impressive. 

P.  50,  1.  2.  Westminster-Hall  a  dining-room.  The  spectators 
at  the  Sacheverell  trial  brought  their  luncheons  with  them,  and 
so  were  able  to  retain  their  places  throughout  the  day.  The 
same  custom  prevailed  during  the  still  more  famous  trial  of 
Warren  Hastings  in  the  same  Hall  nearly  sixty  years  later. 

1.  4.  spleen  and  vapour.     See  note,  p.  28,  1.  10. 

1.  12.  virtuoso,  properly  one  devoted  to  the  fine  arts ;  here 
applied  to  a  seller  of  fine  art  objects. 

1.  20.  Nando's,  a  coffee-house  in  Fleet  Street.  The  house  was 
an  old  one,  having  been  erected  in  the  time  of  James  I. 

1.  23.  Charles  Lillie,  a  well-known  toyman  and  vendor  of  art 
objects  and  bric-a-brac. 

1.  26.  his  name-sake,  Charles  Mathers,  another  well-known 
toyman,  who  had  his  shop  next  door  to  Nando's,  at  the  Inner 
Temple  Gate,  Fleet  Street. 

1.  28.  a  commonwealth,  a  community. 

1.  33.  particular,  peculiar,  exceptional. 

P.  51,1.  10.  utensil,  formerly  any  implement  or  tool  ;  now 
limited  in  application  to  vessels,  such  as  kitchen  utensils,  etc. ; 
from  Lat.  utor,  to  use. 

1.  11.  furnish  out,  supply,  provide. 

1.  14.  Imprimis,  in  the  first  place,  first  of  all. 

1.  15.  contrived,  designed,  planned. 

1.  16.  goldsmiths'  notes,  receipts  for  money  lent  on  interest  to 
the  Goldsmiths,  who  from  the  year  1386,  and  for  many  centuries, 
were  the  chief  bankers  of  London  ;  these  receipts  became  in  time 
negotiable  as  bank-notes.  The  custom  of  issuing  receipts  as 
bank-notes  was  common  amongst  the  bankers  of  the  eighteenth 

1.  19.  nice,  elegant,  chaste,  dainty.  The  word  in  Old  English 
had  originally  the  force  of  ignorant,  weak,  foolish,  and  thus 
Chaucer  employs  it:  "But  say  that  we  ben  wise  and  nothing 
nice."  It  then  acquired  the  meaning  of  trivial,  slight,  unim 
portant,  and  so  Shakspere  (Romeo  and  Juliet)  says:  "The 
letter  was  not  nice,  but  full  of  charge,  of  dear  import";  and 
subsequently,  through  a  series  of  changes,  eventually  came  to 
mean  fastidious,  exacting,  discriminating,  as  applied  to  a  person, 
and  choice,  select,  elegant,  as  applied  to  things. 

1.  21.  curiously  fancied,  carefully  and  elegantly  designed. 
Curious  formerly  meant  careful :  "We  all  should  be  curious  and 
watchful  against  vanities"  (Jeremy  Taylor). 

1.  22.  of  great  use  to  encourage,  etc.,  the  fact  of  possessing 

110  NOTES.  [PAGES 

such  elegant  seals  would  induce  young  gentlemen  to  write  more 
frequently,  so  as  to  have  the  pleasure  of  using  them  ;  this  would 
naturally  lead  to  an  improvement  in  their  hand-writing. 

1.  29.  fusee,  a  kind  of  light  musket ;  the  word  was  otherwise 
spelled  fusil,  and  in  this  form  still  exists  in  fusileers  and 

1.  31.  tweezer-cases.  A  tweezer-case  was  a  small  pocket-case 
containing  pen-knives,  scissors,  and  various  every-day  requisites. 
A  surgeon's  case  of  instruments  was  formerly  known  as  a  tweese, 
the  word  being  a  corruption  of  the  French  etui,  a  case  of  instru 
ments  ;  then  the  instruments  themselves  came  to  be  called 

P.  52,  1.  3.  clouded.     Malacca  canes  were  artificially  coloured, 
and  the  process  was  known  as  '  clouding. ' 
well  made  up,  handsomely  mounted. 

I.  18.  overseen,  mistaken,  deceived  : 

"  Yet  reason  tells  us  parents  are  o'erseen, 
When  with  too  strict  a  rein  they  do  hold  in 
Their  child's  affections. "  Jeremy  Taylor. 

II.  18,  19.  Jambee  ...  Dragon.     These   were  names  for    special 
kinds  of  walking-sticks.     A  Jambee  was  a  stick  made  from  the 
young  sucker  of  the  bamboo,  while  a  Dragon  was  a  small  malacca 
cane  of  a  deep  red  colour  (Dobson). 

1.  32.  came  out,  i.e.  came  into  fashion. 

1.  36.  box  set  with  diamonds,  i.e.  a  snuff-box  which  he  might 
display  in  church. 

ON  LONG-WINDED  PEOPLE.     No.    14. 

P.  53,  1.  7.  Boccalini,  an  Italian  lawyer  and  politician,  born 
at  Loreto  in  1556.  He  is  best  known  as  a  satirical  writer,  and 
chiefly  by  his  work,  News  from  Parnassus,  to  which  Steele  here 
alludes.  His  writings  were  principally  attacks  upon  Spain, 
which  in  his  day  was  the  dominant  power  in  Europe  :  he  died  in 

laconic,  brief,  pithy,  sententious.     The  Laconians  or  Spartans 
were  noted  for  their  brief  manner  of  speech,  and  hence  the  word. 

1.  10.  Guicciardini,  an  Italian  politician  and  historian,  born  at 
Florence  in  1482.  He  was  the  political  servant  of  several 
successive  members  of  the  Medici  family,  and  when  he  retired 
from  public  life,  devoted  his  remaining  years  to  the  writing  of  a 
history  of  his  own  times.  The  work  is  remarkable  for  its 
wearisome  prolixity,  extending,  as  it  does,  through  twenty 
volumes.  There  is  a  humorous  story  told  by  Lord  Macaulay  in 

51-56.]  ON  LONG-WINDED  PEOPLE.  Ill 

his  Essay  on  Burleigh,  of  a  criminal  in  Italy  who  was  given  a 
choice  of  punishment  between  the  galleys  or  the  reading  of 
Guicciardini's  History  ;  he  chose  the  latter,  but  had  to  give  up 
in  despair,  and  so  went  patiently  to  the  galleys. 

1.  12.  doctor  Donne ;  this  reference  occurs  in  one  of  Donne's 
Sermons  fii.  239).  Dr.  John  Donne  (1573-1631)  a  poet  and  divine 
of  James  I.'s  reign.  His  boyhood  was  noted  for  its  extraordinary 
precocity.  He  entered  the  University  of  Oxford  when  only  ten 
years  of  age.  He  is  best  remembered  for  his  Satires,  and  for  the 
far-fetched  thoughts  and  quaint  fantastic  language  of  his  writings, 
which  have  entitled  him  to  be  considered  the  founder  of  the 
school  of  English  satirists  and  so-called  metaphysical  poets. 

1.  29.  Baker's  "Chronicle."  Readers  of  the  Spectator  will  re 
member  that  this  work  was  a  favourite  one  with  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  (Spectator  No.  269).  Sir  Richard  Baker's  Chronicle 
of  the  Kings  of  England  from  the  Times  of  the  Romans  Government 
unto  the  death  of  King  James  was  published  in  1641. 

P.  54,  1.  2.  two  ancient  authors.  It  is  impossible  to  say 
definitely  to  which  two  Steele's  quotation  refers.  The  contrast 
might  suggest  Livy  and  Tacitus  or  Herodotus  and  Thucydides. 

1.  24.  humdrum,  droning,  long-winded ;  from  hum,  a  dull 
noise,  and  drum,  a  droning  noise  (Skeat). 

1  32.  Mr.  Humphry  Wagstaff.  This  is  supposed  to  be  a  refer 
ence  to  Dean  Swift.  In  No.  9  of  The  Taller  Steele  quotes  some 
lines  from  Swift's  poem  "Description  of  Morning,"  and  attributes 
them  to  "his  ingenious  kinsman,  Mr.  Humphry  WagstafF."  It 
is  reasonably  certain  that  the  present  allusion  is  to  one  of  Swift's 

1  35.  postdiluvians,  those  who  have  lived  since  the  Flood,  and 
who  have  not  been  so  long-lived  as  Methuselah  and  the  rest  of 
the  antediluvians. 

P.  55,  1.  3.  span,  life;  an  allusion  to  the  words  of  the  Psalmist : 
"  Thou  hast  made  my  days,  as  it  were,  a  span  long." 

1.  26.  hour-glass  ...  placed  near  the  pulpit.  Hour-glasses  are 
said  to  have  been  invented  at  Alexandria  in  the  third  century. 
As  pieces  of  pulpit  furniture  they  came  into  general  use  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  when  sermons  were  very  much  longer  than 
they  are  now-a-days.  They  were  placed  in  a  framework  project 
ing  from  the  pulpit,  and  at  the  left  hand  of  the  preacher,  whose 
discourse  not  infrequently  extended  over  two  turns  of  the  glass. 
Although  Steele  speaks  of  them  as  being  "  often  placed  near  the 
pulpit,"  they  were  rapidly  passing  out  of  use  in  his  day. 

1.  33.  turned  of  threescore,  has  passed  the  age  of  sixty. 

P.  56,  1.  2.  automaton,  a  self-acting  machine  ;  from  the  Greek 
at/ros  (pron.  autos),  self,  and  ^oret'w  (pron.  mateuo),  to  act. 

112  NOTES.  [PAGES 

1.  9.  Charles  Lillie's.     See  note,  p.  50,  1.  23. 

1.  10.  improper,  unsuitable. 

1.  13.  in  a  following  lucubration.  This  intention  Steele  carried 
out  in  a  most  amusing  paper,  Tatler  No.  268 ;  and  he  again 
reverts  to  the  subject  in  two  numbers  of  the  Guardian  (Nos.  42 
and  84). 

1.  14.  throw  away  a  candle  upon  that  subject,  i.e.  expend  some 
artificial  light  in  writing  an  article  on  the  subject. 

BETTERTON  THE  ACTOR.     No.  15. 

P.  56,  1.  23.  Mr.  Betterton.  In  two  earlier  numbers  of  the 
Tatler  (Nos.  1  and  71)  Steele  gives  most  interesting  accounts  of 
two  performances  of  this  great  actor.  In  the  former  number  he 
describes  how  Betterton,  at  the  age  of  seventy-four,  acted  the 
youthful  part  of  Valentine  in  Congreve's  Love  for  Love  with 
astonishing  vigour,  and  in  the  latter  with  what  freshness  he 
played  the  part  of  Hamlet.  Thomas  Betterton,  who  was  born  in 
1635,  was  of  humble  origin,  his  father  having  been  a  cook  in  the 
royal  kitchen  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  A  bookseller  named 
Rhodes,  to  whom  young  Betterton  had  been  apprenticed,  acquired 
an  interest  in  a  theatre  in  Drury  Lane  ;  this  gave  the  young 
actor  his  first  opportunity,  and  he  rapidly  rose  to  eminence.  He 
is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to  introduce  movable  scenery  on  the 
stage.  His  last  appearance  was  on  Thursday,  April  18,  1710, 
and  in  less  than  a  fortnight  he  died.  He  was  buried,  as  Steele 
here  relates,  in  the  east  cloister  of  Westminster  Abbey,  where  a 
stone  without  inscription  marks  his  grave. 

1.  27.  from  whose  action,  from  whose  acting. 

P.  57,  1.  4.  public  punishments  and  executions.  It  was  not 
until  the  year  1868  that  the  public  execution  of  criminals  ceased 
in  England.  The  place  of  execution  in  London  was  generally 
Tyburn,  but  from  1783  to  1868  in  front  of  Newgate  Prison. 
Capital  punishment,  which  in  Steele's  day  was  inflicted  for  many 
crimes,  was  restricted  in  1861  to  those  persons  found  guilty  of 
treason  and  wilful  murder. 

1.  15.  Roscius  among  the  Romans.  Quintus  Roscius,  a  cele 
brated  Roman  actor,  who  lived  in  the  first  century  before  the 
Christian  era  :  he  died  about  61  B.C.  He  was  a  personal  friend 
of  Cicero,  and  in  the  latter's  writings  he  is  referred  to  in  several 
passages.  There  is  a  story  told  that  Cicero  and  Roscius  used 
frequently  to  contend  as  to  which  could  best  express  the  same 
thought,  the  one  in  speech,  the  other  by  gesture.  It  is  inter 
esting  to  note  in  this  day  of  high  rewards  for  good  acting  that 
Roseius  received  about  £35  a  day  for  his  performances. 

56-59.]  BETTERTON  THE  ACTOR,  113 

1.  15.  The  greatest  orator,  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero,  born  106  B.C., 
assassinated  B.C.  43. 

1.  33.  relish,  taste,  appreciation. 

1.  34.  just,  correct,  realistic,  life-like. 

1.  35.  The  operas,  which  are  of  late  introduced.  Steele  here 
alludes  to  the  introduction  of  Italian  opera  into  England  which 
took  place  shortly  after  the  opening  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre 
in  1705,  for  which  purpose  this  theatre  was  built.  The  perform 
ances  to  our  ears  would  have  been  strange,  for  the  principal 
parts  alone  were  taken  by  Italians,  the  minor  parts  and  chorus 
by  English,  and  each  sang  in  their  own  language.  Less  than  a 
year  after  the  date  of  this  Essay  in  The  Tatler  the  greatest  event 
in  the  history  of  opera  in  England  occurred,  when  on  February 
24,  1711,  Handel  produced  his  great  opera  of  Rincddo  at  the 
Haymarket  Theatre,  to  which  Addison  refers  in  No.  5  of  the 

P.  58,  1.  9.  the  handkerchief  in  Othello.  See  Othello,  Act  v. , 
sc.  ii.  The  character  of  Desdemona  is  said  to  have  been  the  first 
female  part  acted  by  a  woman  on  the  English  stage. 

1.  12.  vicissitude,  change,  alternation,  not  necessarily  for  the 
worse,  as  the  word  implies  now-a-days. 

1.  21.  The  charming  passage,  the  well-known  speech  in  which 
Othello  pleads  his  cause  before  the  Venetian  Senate  (Othello, 
Act  i.,  sc.  iii.,  128). 

I.  28.  ceremony,  here  used  for  the  funeral  procession. 

II.  30,  32.  Brutus  and  Cassius,   etc.,  allusions  to  Shakspere's 
plays  of  Julius  Gcesar,  in  which  Brutus  and  Cassius,  of  Henry 
IV.  (Part  i.),  in  which  Hotspur,  of  Henry  IV.  (Parts  i.  and  n.) 
and  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  in  which  Falstaff,  appear. 

1.  34.  scenical,  theatrical,  and  hence  superficial,  specious,  false. 
1.  36.  sacred  heads,  i.e.  of  the  many  English  sovereigns  buried 
in  Westminster  Abbey. 

P.  59,  1.  6.  Macbeth.  See  Act  v.,  sc.  v.  This  passage  from 
Macbeth  is  quoted  by  Steele  with  very  curious  inaccuracy.  The 
original  runs  thus : 

"  To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time, 
And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 
The  way  to  dusty  death.     Out,  out,  brief  candle  ! 
Life's  but  a  walking  shadow,  a  poor  player 
That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage 
And  then  is  heard  no  more." 

1.  19.  the  unhappy  woman,  i.e.  Betterton's  widow.     She  had 

114  NOTES.  [PAGES 

been  a  Mrs.  Mary  Saunderson,  and  an  admirable  actress,  par 
ticularly  of  Shaksperiaii  parts.  Both  Betterton  and  his  wife, 
in  an  age  when  the  morality  of  the  stage  was  not  what  it  is  now, 
set  in  their  unblemished  lives  high  examples  of  nobility  and 
excellence.  She  died  in  the  following  year  (1711)  and  was 
buried  beside  her  husband  in  the  cloisters  of  Westminster. 

1.  23.  with  a  sense  of  his  decay,  when  she  realized  that  her 
husband  was  failing  in  strength  and  that  his  means  were 

1.  27.  determined,  terminated,  ended. 

1.  31.  so  distinctly,  thus  particularly. 

1.  32.  a  certain  great  spirit.  It  is  doubtful  to  whom  Steele 
here  alludes.  The  most  probable  suggestion  is  that  the  good  and 
beautiful  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings  is  referred  to,  whom  Steele 
praises  §o  nobly  under  the  name  of  Aspasia  in  Tatler  No.  49, 
and  in  reference  to  whom  he  employs  the  memorable  phrase  "to 
love  her  is  a  liberal  education."  Some,  however,  have  thought 
that  because  Queen  Anne  conferred  a  pension  of  £100  upon  Mrs. 
Betterton  after  Betterton's  death,  this  may  be  Steele's  modest 
account  of  a  share  which  he  had  in  recommending  the  widow  to 
the  Queen's  consideration. 


P.  60,  1.  9.  the  Mancha,  i.e.  La  Mancha,  a  province  of  the 
north-west  of  Spain. 

1.  12.  Michael  Cervantes,  his  full  name  was  Miguel  de  Cer 
vantes  Saavedra.  He  was  born  in  1547,  and  died  the  same  year 
as  Shakspere,  1616,  being  seventeen  years  older  than  our  poet. 
In  early  life  he  was  a  soldier  and  fought  in  the  famous  naval 
battle  of  Lepanto  (1571),  where  he  lost  his  left  hand.  His 
literary  fame  rests  on  two  works,  Galatea,  a  long  pastoral  romance, 
and  The  Adventures  of  Don  Quixote  de  la  Mancha,  the  first  part 
of  which  was  published  in  1605,  and  the  second  in  1615.  Galatea 
was  written  to  win  the  admiration  of  the  lady  whom  he  event- 
ualty  married.  Don  Quixote  was  written  with  the  object  of 
discrediting  the  wild  romances  then  much  read  in  Spain.  See 
note,  p.  64,  1.  10. 

1.  15.  economy.  The  arrangements  and  management  of  his 

furniture,  equipment. 

1.  17.  Knight  Errant.  One  of  the  many  classes  of  knights  of 
feudal  times :  some  undertook  to  protect  pilgrims,  some  the 
defence  or  recovery  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  but  the  Knight 

59-62.]  DON  QUIXOTE  IN  THE  COFFEE-HOUSES.       115 

Errant  wandered  over  all  lands  seeking  adventures.  The  order 
of  knighthood  probably  originated  in  the  eleventh  or  twelfth 

1.  18.  halberds.  A  halberd  was  a  lance-like  weapon,  the  head 
of  which  was  a  combination  of  spear  and  battle-axe,  and  so  might 
be  used  in  thrusting  and  hacking. 

morion,  an  open  helmet  without  either  visor  or  beaver ; 
probably  derived  from  the  Spanish  morra,  the  crown  of  the  head. 

1.  22.  peregrinations,  wanderings ;  from  Lat.  per,  through, 
and  ager,  land. 

1.  25.  books  of  knighthood.  Books  dealing  with  the  adven 
tures  of  the  famous  knights  of  Christendom,  such  as  those  of 
Amadis  of  Gaul,  Palmerin  of  England,  and  a  host  of  others.  For 
the  names  of  the  books  read  by  Don  Quixote,  see  the  amusing 
sixth  chapter  of  the  Adventures,  where  the  Curate  and  Master 
Nicholas  the  Barber  destroy  the  knight's  library. 

1.  26.  Cervantes  reports,  etc.  See  Don  Quixote,  Part  i., 
chap.  i. ,  where  the  quotation  is  stated  to  be  from  the  works  of 
the  "famous  Feliciano  de  Sylva." 

P.  61,  1.  17.  by  falling  into,  in  happening  to  visit. 

1.  18.  the  upholsterer,  this  reference  is  to  the  character  of  the 
political  upholsterer  which  Addison  had  introduced  in  No.  155 
of  the  Tatler. 

crack,  craze  ;  the  word  was  also  used  in  the  sense  of  a  crazed 
person,  a  lunatic,  e.g.  "the  Parliament,  who  look  upon  me  as  a 
crack  and  a  projector"  (Addison). 

1.  19.  This  touch,  affection,  ailment.  The  word  is  used  in  tin's 
sense  by  Shakspere  in  the  well-known  line,  "one  touch  of  nature 
makes  the  whole  world  kin"  (Troilm  and  Grenada,  in.  iii.). 

1.  23.  the  novelists,  here  used  merely  in  the  sense  of  news 
paper  writers  who  retail  what  is  novel.  The  English  novel  was 
not,  of  course,  yet  in  existence. 

1.  30.  the  Post-man,  a  well-known  newspaper  of  Steele's  day. 

1.  31.  alley  coffee-houses.  The  humbler  class  of  coffee-houses 
in  the  poorer  parts  of  London. 

P.  62,  1.  5.  the  plain  of  Lens,  the  plain  to  the  north  of  the 
town  of  Mons,  in  Hainault,  not  many  miles  from  the  scene  of 
MarllioroiiLrirs  brilliant  campaign  in  the  previous  year  (1709), 
and  the  field  of  Malplaquet. 

1.  11.  Marshall  Villars,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the 
French  generals  in  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession. 

1.  1").  Monsieur  Albergottl,  one  of  the  French  generals  of 
Louis  XIV.  He  was  l><>sic  ^vd  in  the  town  of  Douay  by  the 
Allies  in  1710,  and  compelled  to  surrender. 

116  NOTES.  [PAOES 

1.  20.  the  elector  of  Bavaria,  the  ally  of  Louis  XIV.  in  the 
War  of  the  Spanish  Succession. 

1.  36.  vertigo,  a  giddiness,  confusion.    From  Lat.  verto,  to  turn. 

P.  63,  1.  3.  Ichabod  Dawks's  Letter,  the  name  of  a  small  news 
paper  of  the  day. 

1.  7.  battle  of  Ramillies.  This  famous  victory  of  Marlborough 
was  won  on  Whitsunday,  May  12,  1706. 

1.  10.  we  shall  not  stand  upon  the  day,  we  shall  not  be  par 
ticular  as  to  the  day.     Cf.  Macbeth,  Act  in.,  sc.  iv.,  1.  118  : 
"  Stand  not  upon  the  order  of  your  going, 
But  go  at  once  !" 

1.  13.  conceit,  a  whimsical  idea  or  thought.     So  Pope,  Essay 
on  Criticism,  when  condemning  those  critics  who  care  merely  for 
the  far-fetched  eccentric  thoughts  expressed  in  a  poem,  says  : 
"  Some  to  conceit  alone  their  taste  confine, 
And  glitt'ring  thoughts  struck  out  at  ev'ry  line." 

1.  15.  noddles,  the  heads;  a  diminutive  formed  from  M.E. 
knod,  a  knob,  ball  (Skeat). 

1.  22.  our  fraternity,  i.e.  of  newspaper  writers. 

1.  23.  as  particular,  as  peculiar,  odd. 

1.  25.  whether  print  or  manuscript.  Some  of  the  newspapers 
of  the  day,  such  as  Ichabod  Dawks's  Letter,  had  a  portion  of 
their  news  printed  as  reproduction  of  manuscript  (Dobson). 

1.  26.  a  refreshment,  a  re'chaujfe  or  re-hash  of  the  news  already 
published  in  other  papers. 

1.  31.  the  Courant,  the  Daily  Courant,  a  whig  newspaper  of 
Steele's  day,  and  the  first  daily  paper  published  in  England. 

P.  64,  1.  10.  books  of  chivalry  to  Spain,  the  extravagant 
romances  of  knight-errantry  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which 
Cervantes,  considering  them  as  destructive  of  the  moral  and 
intellectual  character  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  ridiculed  out  of 
existence  by  showing  their  effect  in  the  case  of  the  crazed  Don 
Quixote.  See  note,  p.  60,  1.  25. 

ON  SATIRE.     No.  17. 

P.  64,  1.  22.  pretended,  presumed,  dared, 
impertinent  applauses,  inappropriate,  ill-deserved  praise. 

P.  65,  1.  8.  When  Virgil  said.  This  saying  occurs  in  Virgil's 
Third  Eclogue,  and  refers  to  two  petty  and  spiteful  poets  of  the 
time  of  Augustus  Csesar,  who  took  delight  in  attacking  the 
reputation  of  the  great  writers  of  the  period. 

62-68.]  ON  SATIRE.  117 

1.  15.  the  character  among  us,  etc.  In  this  epigram  the  witty 
Earl  of  Rochester  (1647-1680)  describes  the  character  of  the  Earl 
of  Dorset,  the  author  of  the  well-known  song,  To  all  you  Ladies 
now  on  Land,  written  at  sea  just  before  a  naval  engagement  with 
the  Dutch.  A  somewhat  similar  epigram  was  applied  to  Dr. 
Arbuthnot,  of  whom  it  was  said  that  "he  liked  an  ill-natured 
jest  the  best  of  any  good-natured  man  in  the  kingdom." 

1.  27.  produce,  here  used  in  its  literal  sense,  to  lead  forth  ; 
hence  to  indicate,  display. 

1.  29.  of  the  greatest  character  in  this  kind,  i.e.  of  the  greatest 
reputation  in  this  form  of  satire. 

1.  30.  Horace,  the  Latin  poet  and  satirist  who  was  born  in 
B.C.  65  and  died  B.C.  8,  when  he  had  nearly  completed  his  57th 
year.  His  Satires,  of  which  there  are  two  books,  are  considered 
the  finest  portion  of  his  works. 

Juvenal  is  said  to  have  been  born  about  the  year  40  A.D.  in 
the  reign  of  Caligula,  and  to  have  died  at  the  age  of  80  in  the 
reign  of  Hadrian,  but  much  uncertainty  exists  as  to  the  exact 
dates.  While  the  writings  of  Horace  are  distinguished  by 
brilliancy  and  playfulness,  those  of  Juvenal  are  marked  by 
earnest  thought  and  dignified  rhetoric. 

P.  66,  1.  4.  a  prince  of  the  greatest  goodness,  Augustus  Csesar, 
the  friend  and  patron  of  Horace. 

1.  7.  falls  upon,  attacks. 

1.  8.  false  pretences  to  politeness,  i.e.  false  claims  to  be  con 
sidered  learned  and  cultured  ;  politeness  in  Steele's  day  denoted 
rather  the  attainments  which  mark  the  man  of  cultured  mind 
than  gentle  manners  ;  cf.  Johnson,  Preface  to  Shakspere,  "  the 
polite  are  ever  catching  modish  innovations. " 

1.  12.  Domitian,  Titus  Flavius  Domitianus,  the  Roman 
emperor,  son  of  the  emperor  Vespasian,  who  reigned  from 
81  A.D.  to  96  A.D.,  when  he  was  put  to  death  in  his  own  apart 
ments  by  the  members  of  a  conspiracy  roused  to  action  by  his 
cruelties.  His  reign  is  memorable  as  that  in  which  Britain  was 
finally  conquered  by  the  Romans  under  Agricola,  and  for  one  of 
the  most  terrible  of  the  persecutions  of  the  Christians. 

1.  15.  conversation,  in  its  original  and  wider  sense  of  inter 
course  with  our  fellow-creatures. 

1.  34.  rally,  to  banter,  chaff;  the  word  is  a  form  of  rail,  to 

P.  67,  1.  13.  with  greater  life,  with  greater  accuracy. 

P.  68,  1.  9.  repartee  ;  the  use  of  this  word  as  a  verb  is  unusual ; 
it  is  an  anglicized  form  of  the  French  repartic,  a  witty  reply. 

118  NOTES.  [PAGI 


P.  69,  1.  13.  the  mind  of  a  man,  etc.  Milton  (Par.  Lost,  Bk. 
I.  253)  expresses  a  somewhat  similar  idea  : 

"  The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself 
Can  make  a  Heaven  of  Hell,  a  Hell  of  Heaven." 

1.  25.  than  his  vanity,  i.e.  than  to  or  for  his  vanity. 

1.  26.  prepossessions,  prejudice  in  favour  of. 

1.  34.  Mr.  Collier,  the  Rev.  Jeremy  Collier  (1650-1726)  who 
became  famous  as  a  political  writer,  after  the  Revolution,  when 
he  directed  his  great  controversial  powers  against  the  govern 
ment  of  William  III.  Steele  here  quotes  from  one  of  his  Essays 
upon  Several  Moral  Subjects.  His  real  fame  rests  upon  the  noble 
protest  which,  in  1698,  he  entered  against  the  immorality  of  the 
plays  which  Congreve,  Farquhar,  and  other  writers  of  the 
Restoration  period  had  made  fashionable  on  the  English  stage. 
This  work  was  entitled:  A  short  view  of  the  Immorality  and 
Profaneness  of  the  English  Stage,  together  with  the,  sense  of 
Antiquity  upon  this  argument.  It  roused  all  sober  and  thinking 
men  to  side  with  him,  and  led  to  a  great  improvement  in  the 
tone  of  the  English  Drama.  Steele,  in  his  comedy  of  The  Lying 
Lover,  by  attempting  to  mingle  what  was  serious  with  the 
elements  of  a  comedy,  aimed  at  carrying  into  practice  the 
suggestions  of  Collier  towards  the  creation  of  a  purer  and  more 
elevating  drama. 

P.  70,  1.  6.  decency,  decorum,  dignity.  Cf.  Addison,  Spec 
tator,  279  :  "  Sentiments  which  raise  laughter  can  very  seldom 
be  admitted  with  any  decency  in  an  Heroic  poem. " 

1.  20.  adventitious,  incidental,  superficial. 

1.  22.  only  for  the  just  application  of  them,  only  so  far  as  they 
are  rightly  employed. 

1.  26.  delicates,  delicacies,  dainties. 

1.  27.  wit,  intellectual  gifts. 

P.  71,  1.  4.  allowed  only  to  those,  admitted  to  exist  only  in 

1.  6.  denominate,  mark  them  out,  distinguish. 

1.  15.  distinctions,  social  and  class  distinctions. 

1.  20.  interpretation  of  his  actions,  i.e.  the  motives  which 
others  ascribe  to  his  actions. 

1.  24.  inexplicable,  intricate,  lit.  that  which  cannot  be  un 
woven  or  disentangled  (Latin  ex  and  plico). 

1.  27.  tragedian,  i.e.  a  writer  of  tragedy,  and  not,  as  now,  a 
tragic  actor.  For  the  passage  from  which  Steele  quotes  see 
Macbeth,  Act  u.,  sc.  ii.,  1.  43. 


1.  30.  Mr.  Cowley.  The  lines  are  to  be  found  in  Cowley's 
Essay,  No.  6,  Of  Greatness.  Abraham  Cowley  (1618-1667),  a 
poet  whose  works  are  now  little  read.  His  longest  poem  is  an 
unfinished  one  entitled  Davideis,  which  recounts  the  deeds  of 
King  David.  His  Essays,  in  which  Cowley's  great  learning  and 
deep  philosophic  thought  are  found,  rank  in  point  of  excellence 
with  similar  productions  of  the  best  writers. 


P.  72,  1.  8.  Mile-End,  a  district  in  the  east  of  London,  situated 
between  Whitechapel  and  Bow,  and  now  densely  populated.  In 
former  days  the  place  was  a  favourite  country  retreat,  and  here 
the  well-to-do  citizens  had  their  summer  gardens  and  many  of 
them  residences.  Bethnal  Green  and  Hoxton  were  similar  rural 
districts  at  this  time,  and  much  frequented. 

Stepney    churchyard,    the    churchyard    of    the    old    parish 
church  of  Stepney,  another  district  in  the  east  end,  and  about 
two  and  a  half  miles  east  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.     The  church 
was  built   in  the  fourteenth  century.     It  is  a  very  old  tradition 
that  all  children  born  at  sea  belong  to  Stepney  parish  : 
"  He  who  sails  on  the  wide  sea 
Is  a  parishioner  of  Stepney."         Old  Rhyme. 

1.23.  Pyrrhus,  King  of  Epirus,  born  B.C.  318,  died  B.C.  273. 
The  philosopher  here  referred  to  is  Cineas  his  friend  and  adviser. 
See  Plutarch's  Lives. 

1.  28.  condition,  position  in  life.     Cf.  Pope,  Essay  on  Man  : 
"  Honour  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise  ; 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honour  lies." 

P.  73,  1.  5.  and  quitted,  retired  from  the  army. 

1.  10.  our  regiment.  If  Steele  is  here  describing  some  friend 
of  his,  we  must  remember  that  he  may  have  known  him,  either 
when  he  was  serving  as  a  gentleman  volunteer  in  the  Guards,  or 
when  he  held  the  captaincy  in  Lord  Lucas's  Fusileers  (see 

1.  13.  His  warm  complexion,  his  energetic  nature.  See  note, 
p.  24,  1.  36. 

1.  1 9.  put  his  mind  in  some  method  of  gratification,  direct  his 
thoughts  and  energy  towards  something  which  may  be  a  source 
of  pleasure  to  him,  and  so  keep  his  mind  from  brooding. 

1.  22.  courting  proper  occasions,  seeking  suitable  opportunities. 

1.  33.  I  know  not  what,  some  element  of ;  a  literal  translation 
of  the  French  idiom,  je  ne  sais  quoi. 

120  NOTES.  [PAGES 

P.  74,  1.  2.  undertaking  spirits,  adventurous  spirits. 

1.  6.  for  the  ostentation  of,  for  the  sake  of  displaying. 

1.  11.  may  figure  to  us,  may  serve  to  illustrate  for  us. 

1.  12.  politer,  more  cultured. 

1.  26.  regular  prosecution,  lawful  pursuit ;  Lat.  prosequor,  to 
follow,  pursue. 

1.  29.  the  Trumpet.     See  Essay  9  and  notes. 

P.  75,  1.  3.  a  pretence  to  arrive  at,  and  an  ardency  to  exert, 
a  possibility  of  attaining  to,  and  an  enthusiasm  in  putting  into 

1.  10.  pretends  to  it,  aims  at,  lays  claim  to ;  Lat.  prcetendo,  to 
spread  before,  hold  out  (as  an  aim). 

1.  18.  turned,  directed. 

1.  19.  cast,  character.     See  note,  p.  30,  1.  10. 


P.  76,  1.  5.  incoherent  circumstances,  disconnected  facts  and 

1.  6.  in  his  imagination,  as  he  imagined. 

1.  24.  the  nicest  art,  an  art  of  the  most  refined  and  delicate 
character.  See  note,  for  this  use  of  nice,  p.  51,  1.  19. 

1.  34.  easy  companion.     See  note,  p.  33,  1.  24. 

P.  77,  1.  2.  a  led  friend,  a  hanger-on,  a  follower. 

1.  3.  a  darling  for  his  insignificancy,  a  favourite  on  account  of 
his  insignificance. 

1.  9.  There  are  of,  there  are  those  of. 

1.  18.  the  course  of  the  town,  what  is  going  on  in  the  town  in 
the  way  of  incident  or  gossip. 

1.  30.  the  Latin  word  for  a  flatterer.  Cf.  Trench,  Study  of 
Words  :  "  Thus,  all  of  us  have  felt  the  temptation  of  seeking  to 
please  others  by  an  unmanly  assenting  to  their  opinion,  even 
when  our  own  independent  convictions  did  not  agree  with  theirs. 
The  existence  of  such  a  temptation,  and  the  fact  that  too  many 
yield  to  it,  are  declared  in  the  Latin  for  a  flatterer,  assentalor, 
that  is  an  assenter,  one  who  has  not  courage  to  say  No  when  a 
Yes  is  expected  from  him." 

1.  34.  gains  upon  you,  wins  your  confidence  and  friendship. 

P.  78,  1.  12.  his  parts  are  so  low,  his  ability  is  of  so  low  an 

74-79.]  ON  JUDICIOUS  FLATTERY.  121 

1.  21.  an  estate  of  reputation,  is  in  possession  of  credit  or 

1.  31.  Terence  introduces,  etc.  ;  in  his  comedy  of  Etmuchus, 
where  Gnatho  the  Parasite  thus  expresses  himself  on  the  art  of 
nattering  (Act  n.,  sc.  iii.) :  "  There  is  a  class  of  men  who  strive 
to  be  first  in  everything,  but  are  not ;  to  these  I  make  my  court ; 
whatever  they  say,  I  commend  ;  if  they  contradict  that  self-same 
thing,  I  commend  again.  Does  any  one  deny  ?  I  deny  ;  does  any 
one  affirm  ?  I  affirm. " 

1.  36.  discover,  exhibit,  show. 

P.  79,  1.  6.  a  droll,  an  amusing  fellow,  a  wag.  The  word  is  of 
Scandinavian  origin,  and  originally  meant  'a  merry  imp'  (Danish, 

1.  7.  ticklish,  critical,  sensitive.  Cf.  Bacon,  Essay,  Of  Seditions 
and  Troubles :  ' '  Princes  had  need  in  tender  matter  and  ticklish 
time  to  beware  what  they  say." 

1.  17.  Sir  Jeffery,  Sir  Jeffery  Notch,  a  member  of  the  Trumpet 
Club.  See  Essay  9. 

1.  18.  hold  up,  i.e.  resist  sleep. 

1.  30.  an  arrant  driveller,  a  downright  fool.  The  word  arrant 
is  another  form  of  errant,  roving,  wandering.  From  the  fact  that 
the  word  was  most  frequently  used  as  a  prefix  to  words  indicative 
of  bad  character,  such  as  an  errant  thief,  an  errant  rogue,  it 
gradually  assumed  the  quality  of  these  words  itself,  and  came  to 
mean  notorious,  abject. 

1.  33.  the  Revolution,  of  1688,  when  the  Stuart  dynasty,  repre 
sented  by  James  II.,  was  succeeded  by  the  collateral  branch 
represented  by  William,  Prince  of  Orange. 


yEsop,  12.  21. 
After-life,  46.  10. 
Albergotti,  Monsieur,  62.  15. 
Alexander  the  Great,.  24.  11. 
Apprentices,  London,  35.  1. 


Bank,  the,  37.  30. 
Bassett,  19.  28. 
Bavaria,  elector  of,  62.  20. 
Bellman,  20.  12. 
Betterton,  Thomas,  56.  23. 
Be  vis   of    Southampton,    12. 


Bickerstaff,  Isaac,  2.  11. 
Bills  of  Mortality,  i.  8. 
Bob-wig,  48.  18. 
Bocsalini,  53.  7. 
Brasenose  College,  47.  23. 
Brutus,  58.  30. 

Canterbury  tale,  36.  35. 
Cassius,  58.  30. 
Caubly,  Roger  de,  17.  8. 
Cervantes,  60.  12. 
Charing-Cross,  35.  14. 
Cheapside,  37.  29. 
Chelsea,  16.  9. 

Christ  Church  Bells,  17.  10. 
Chronicle,  Baker's,  53.  29, 
Coaches,  9.  28. 
Colleges,  hours  of,  20.  29. 
Collier,  Mr.,  69.  34. 
Colt's  tooth,  a,  33.  2. 
Complexion,  24.  36. 
Conceit,  63.  13. 
Courant,  the,  63.  31. 
Cowley,  Mr.,  71.  30. 
Coxcombs,  45.  25. 
Crimp,  19.  28. 
Curfew,  the,  19.  23. 

Dainty,  Lady,  23.  12. 
Depiiigle,  14.  35. 
Dick's  Coffee-house,  4.  10. 
Diet- drink,  23.  4. 
Domitian,  66.  12. 
Donne,  doctor,  53.  12. 
Dragon,  52.  19. 
Drinking  habits,  8.  11. 
Duelling,  42.  20. 


Edge-hill,  36.  18. 
Electuary,  47.  32. 
Enfield-chase,  26.  8. 
Eutrapelus,  33.  10. 
Executions,  public,  57.  4. 




Farthingale,  31.  24. 
Fields,  the  five,  16.  15. 
Furbelow,  31.  9. 
Fusee,  51.  29. 


Oarraway's,  8,  2. 
Gascon,  23.  29. 
Gimcracks,  16.  25. 
Goldsmith's  notes,  51.  16. 
Grecian,  the,  i.  7. 
Guicciardini,  53.  10. 
Guy  of  Warwick,  12.  26. 


Hastings,     Lady    Elizabeth, 

59-  32. 

Hickerthrift,  John,  12.  32. 
Horace,  65.  30. 
Hours  for  dining,  20.  30. 
Hour-glasses,  55.  26. 
Hours  of  theatres,  10.  1. 
Hudibras,  35.  15. 
Hungary  water,  48.  31. 
Hyde-Park,  44.  22. 

Ichabod  Dawks's  Letter,  63. 

Isaac,  15.  15. 

Jambee,  52.  18. 
Jeffery,  Sir,  79.  17. 
Juvenal,  65.  30. 

Kit,  15.  11. 

Knight-errant,  60.  17. 

Ladies'  cure,  The,  27.  9. 
Lens,  plain  of,  62.  5. 

Library,  a  Female,  29.  9. 
Lillie,  Charles,  50.  23. 
Limpers,  23.  36. 
Lotteries,  38.  1. 
Lottery,  Penny,  40.  9. 
Lucian,  21.  15. 
Lucubrations,  2.  19. 


Macbeth,  59.  6. 
Mancha,  the,  60.  9. 
Manes,  4.  25. 
Marston  Moor,  34.  36. 
Mathers,  Charles,  50.  26. 
Mile-end,  72.  8. 
Morphew,  Mr.,  38.  29. 
Mountebanks,  13.  26. 
Muffs,  1 8.  18. 


Nando's,  50.  20. 
Naseby,  35.  32. 
Negroes,  46.  34. 
Nestor,  37.  14. 
Nice,  51.  19. 
Nickers,  25.  33. 
Nicolini,  49.  11. 


Oaf,  28.  35. 
Ogle,  Jack,  35.  15. 
Oliver  Cromwell,  4.  4. 
Open-breasted,  n.  35. 
Operas,  57.  35. 
Ordinaries,  35.  14. 
Othello,  58.  9. 
Overdo,  Justice,  16.  17. 

Palatines,  39.  10. 
Partridge,  Mr.,  41.  2. 
Periwigs,  n.  34. 
Play-house,  10.  1. 
Point  of  war,  12.  15. 



Post-man,  the,  61.  30. 
Punch,  1 8.  17. 
Pyrrhus,  72.  23. 


Ramillies,  battle  of,  63.  7. 
Revolution,  the,  79.  33. 
Rigadoon,  15.  27. 
Roscius,  57.  15. 

Sacheverell  trial,  49.  17- 
St.  George,  12.  33. 
St.  James's,  2.  4. 
Sclopeta,  17.  31. 
Seneca,  38.  36. 
Sheer-lane,  4.  10. 
Sheyles,  Elinor,  6.  2. 
Shoulder-knot,  32.  3. 
Spleen,  28.  10. 
Stepney,  72.  8. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  45.  5. 
Terence,  78.  31. 

Toast,  12.  11. 
Tom's  Coffee-house,  2.  3. 
Toy-shop,  31.  27. 
Tradescant,  17.  27. 
Trumpet  Club,  34.  10. 
Trusty,  Sam,  46.  2. 
Tutty,  47.  34. 
Tweezer-case,  51.  31. 

Venus,  26.  22. 
Villars,  Marshal,  62.  11. 
Virgil,  65.  8. 
Vossius,  17.  20. 


Wagstaff,    Mr.     Humphrey, 

54.  32. 

Watch,  the,  20.  13. 
Westminster  Hall,  20.  33. 
White's,  2.  3. 
William  Rufus,  20.  33. 
Will's  Coffee-house,  2.  3. 







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possible  difficulty." 

— ROKEBY.     By  the  same.     3s. ;  sewed,  2s.  6d. 

The  Guardian—  "The  introduction  is  excellent,  and  the  notes  show  much 
care  and  research." 


The  Guardian — "  Speaking  generally  of  Macmillan's  Series  we  may  say 
that  they  approach  more  nearly  than  any  other  edition  we  know  to  the  ideal 
school  Shakespeare.  The  introductory  remarks  are  not  too  much  burdened 
with  controversial  matter  ;  the  notes  are  abundant  and  to  the  point,  scarcely 
any  difficulty  being  passed  over  without  some  explanation,  either  by  a  para 
phrase  or  by  etymological  and  grammatical  notes." 

— MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING.     By  the  same.    2s. 

The  Schoolmaster — "  The  notes  on  words  and  phrases  are  full  and  clear." 
—A  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM.    By  the  same.    Is.  Oil. 
—THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 
— As  You  LIKE  IT.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 

— TWELFTH  NIGHT.    By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 

The  Educational  News — "  This  is  an  excellent  edition  of  a  good  play." 

— THE  WINTER'S  TALE.      By  the  same.      2s. 

— KING  JOHN.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 

— RICHARD  II.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 

—HENRY  IV.,  Part  I.     By  the  same.     2s.  6d.;  sewed,  2s. 

—HENRY  IV.,  Part  II.     By  the  same.     2s.  6J.;  sewed,  2s. 

—HENRY  V.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 

—RICHARD  III.     By  C.  H.  TAWNEY,  M.A.     2s.  6d.;  sewed,  2s. 

The  School  Guardian — "Of   Mr.  Tawney's  work  as  an  annotator 
speak  in  terms  of  commendation.    His  notes  are  full  and  always  to  the  point." 

—HENRY  VIII.     By  K.  DEIGHTON.     Is.  9d. 


SHAKESPEARE,— CORIOLANUS.      By    K.    DEIGHTON.      2s.    6d.; 

sewed,  2s. 

— ROMEO  AND  JULIET.     By  the  same.     2s.  6d. ;  sewed,  2s. 
— JULIUS  CAESAR.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 
—HAMLET.     By  the  same.     2s.  6d.;  sewed,  2s. 
— MACBETH.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 

The  Educational  Review— "  This  is  an  excellent  edition  for  the  student. 
The  notes  are  suggestive,     .    .     .    and  the  vivid  character  sketches  of  Mac 
beth  and  Lady  Macbeth  are  excellent." 
—KING  LEAR.     By  the  same.     Is.  9d. 
—OTHELLO.    By  the  same.     2s. 

— ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATRA.     By  the  same.      2s.  6d.  ;  sewed,  2s. 
— CYMBELINE.     By  the  same.     2s.  6d. ;  sewed,  2s. 

The  Scotsman— "  Mr.  Deighton  has  adapted  his  commentary,  both  in 
Othello  and  in  Cymbeline,  with  great  skill  to  the  requirements  and  capacities 
of  the  readers  to  whom  the  series  is  addressed." 

3s.;  sewed,  2s.  6d. 

M.A.     3s.  ;  sewed,  2s.  6d. 

—THE  SHEPHEARD'S  CALENDER.     By  Prof.    C.    H.    HERFORD, 
Litt.D.     2s.  6d. 

TENNYSON— SELECTIONS.  By  F.  J.  HOWE,  M.A.,  and  W.  T. 
WEBB,  M.A.  3s.  6d.  Also  in  two  Parts,  2s.  6d.  each. 
Part  I.  Recollections  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  The  Lady  of 
Shalott,  The  Lotos-Eaters,  Dora,  Ulysses,  Tithonus,  The 
Lord  of  Burleigh,  The  Brook,  Ode  on  the  Death  of  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  The  Revenge.— Part  II.  Oenone,  The 
Palace  of  Art,  A  Dream  of  Fair  Women,  Morte  d' Arthur, 
Sir  Galahad,  The  Voyage,  and  Demeter  and  Persephone. 
The  Journal  of  Education — "It  should  find  a  wide  circulation  in 

English  schools The  notes  give  just  the  requisite  amount   of 

help  for  understanding  Tennyson,  explanations  of  the  allusions  with  which  his 

poems  teem,  and  illustrations  by  means  of  parallel  passages.    A  short  critical 

introduction  gives  the  salient  features  of  his  style  with  apt  examples." 
The   Literary    World — "The  book  is  very  complete,  and  will  be  a  good 

introduction  to  the  study  of  Tennyson's  works  generally." 

— MORTE  D' ARTHUR.     By  the  same.     Sewed,  Is. 

—ENOCH  ARDEN.     By  W.  .T.  WEBB,  M.A.     2s.  6d. 

— AYLMER'S  FIELD.     By  W.  T.  WEBB,  M.A.    2s.  6d. 

—THE  PRINCESS.     By  P.  M.  WALLACE,  M.A.     3s.  6d. 

F.  J.  ROWE,  M.A.     2s.  6d. 

— GARETII  AND  LYNETTE.     By  G.  C.  MACAULAY,  M.A.     2s.  6d. 

MACAULAY,  M.A.     2s.  6d. 

—LANCELOT  AND  ELAINE.    By  F.  J.  ROWE,  M.A.     2s.  6d. 

—THE  HOLY  GRAIL.     By  G.  C.  MACAULAY,  M.A.     2s.  6d. 

—GUINEVERE.     By  G.  C.  MACAULAY,  M.A.     2s.  6d. 

WORDSWORTH— SELECTIONS.    By  F.  J.  ROWE,  M.A.,  and  W.  T. 
WEBB,  M.A.  [In preparation. 


PR     Steele,  (Sir)  Richard 

3702      Selections